#so they trade it for apathy for the environment.

[snekdood]

funniest leftists to me are the ones who convince themselves caring about the env at all is eco fascism somehow

[t0ast-ghost]

Season four of the boys is hitting my brain like a crowbar so I’ve got a couple more thoughts about the new episode

There’s gonna be spoilers for the episode, a bit of talk about the comics, and some only slightly bloody images, so be wary, be warned!

These are my thoughts during the first watch:

- When Butcher hit his head I actively gasped. My poor babygirl.

- I do like how they’ve made Becca meaner but essentially still her

- Frenchie. Break up with him.

- I’m glad Annie has more plot and scenes this season. I’m also glad that Firecracker is actually fucking with her. Their foundation is messy but the actual rivalry is coming together quite nicely

- “I had nightmares about that exact moment, and you can’t even remember it. It’s funny, isn’t it, how people can have such different memory of the exact same thing.” Oh my god this is such a good line. Like obviously not to the extremes of Homelander but kids can and will retain things that their parents won’t even remember. They make some parts of his character easy to understand because you can see that his actions are always impulsive and unhealthy and created by the ways he was raised and the environment he’s been surrounded by

- Okay that death was so so well done. It’s so emotional for Homelander because he’s seeing how people aren’t honest or caring until he’s threatening them. I can’t even try and decipher the “I forgive you” line because it’s so full of apathy

- Hughie and Kimiko teaming up is so special to me. I need more of them.

- HUGHIE GETTING V FOR HIS DAD??? CONFRONTING A TRAIN??? Discuss??? (There’s more thoughts later)

- Hughie saying that him and A-Train would be “good” if A-Train got the v for him is so heavy. It felt like Hughie trading Robin’s life for his dads. Or for his future? Like in order to move on he has to let go of Robin and that feels so awful

- I wanna state how easily and quickly they made me uncomfortable with Firecracker and The Deep singing. How is that so unreasonably uncomfortable?

- So uh. Yeah I’m not sure I wanna touch that scene…

- THEY PUT HUGHIE IN A SCREAM CHASE SCENE

- I literally screamed when Hughie killed him omg. This is what I’m here for omg omg my babygirl

(Here’s a behind the scenes stunt video on insta)

- Tala is so fair for that but when is she gonna become apart of the boys family?

- I think Annie is going to blow up. Like I think she will do something really bad.

- YEA BEAT HER UP ANNIE… okay maybe not the best decision but…

- WHAT THE FUCK

- Fun fact Homelander’s birth that Barbara describes is how Becca dies in the comics

- UM UM UM UM UM so uhhhhhh I suspected that Sage needed to give herself lobotomies for that reason (wish I said smt goddamnit) but I was not ready for a scene depicting a lobotomy that also implied it was like sex to her?

- Kimiko and Annie hug <333

- Hughie forgave him… now kiss

- “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hating anybody” YESS that’s what this is about!!! How fucking contrasting Hughie and Butchers views are on the subject of revenge and superheroes. Their situations are so very different from the comics and I like that both of them are (somewhat) healing. Hughie’s forgiven A-Train and Butcher is just trying to get Ryan safe. It’s less about killing for both of them in the show which I love

- I paused to write that before the “there’s enough here to save you too” OH MY GOD NO. No no. Nonononono. No.

- Hughie’s face when getting coffee? Mwah! Give him little kiss

- HIS MOM. KNOWS. ABOUT. V!!?? I mean. They couldn’t kill off Simon Pegg. He’s Simon Pegg! Just kidding I totally thought he was going to die. I wonder if they’ll give him the same kind of quandary Hughie originally got in the comics when Butcher forcefully injected him with V

- Perfect ending for Homelander’s visit home.

Interlude:

So I haven’t started the rewatch yet but two things about some characters of the last three episodes that actually didn’t make an appearance in this one.

First off I don’t think I mentioned this in my last post but I really like what they’ve done with Noir. It’s an interesting and corporate way to bring back the character that makes a lot of sense in universe

Secondly there’s a theory I wanted to bring to people’s attention. This video on instagram has the theory that Kessler is like Becca and isn’t actually real. Which I think is really neat. I’ll take it either way but it would make a lot of sense if he wasn’t since he seems to hold a lot of negative traits that Butcher used to have and is trying to grow from

Okay I lied, third thing cause it just got brought to my attention again; everyone who is making fun of Laz Alonso shut the fuck up. Thank you. I won’t be taking criticism on this.

Onto the rewatch:

- The first shot is of different variations of Homelander’s costume. Pretty cool!

- Second shot has two pictures of Frank and Martin working in the lab with Frank’s picture framed by a newspaper thats article makes no sense but has a lot of key words and phrases (could just be gibberish idk) the title on a separate article from the same newspaper can be read as “Drama class wins award” other than that there’s also some kind of document that’s the same kind of gibberish but it caught my eye cause it says “-orthward gay” … not sure what this means…

Camera then pans down to reveal a memo and news clipping. The memo is from Barbara to the staff and talks about how anyone who breaks the confidentiality of Project Odessa will be terminated and prosecuted. The news clipping is more gibberish with the heading “Nervous system mystery revealed” by Greg Gilmore (by gibberish I mean the first couple sentences are “Had men rose from down lady able. Its son him ferrars proceed six parlors.” And then continues on like that)

- I actually love the horror movie situation they find themselves in. It’s a creepy basement lab. The security cams go out. Communication to the outside world has been cut off. Then the devil arrives in the elevator. It’s done so well, things are set up perfectly. There’s even a sign that says “All activities monitored by video camera” and a box with the words “fire safety plan” (could be foreshadowing or I’m just connecting non existent dots)

- The picture of young Homelander with the scientists. It’s so horribly terrible and amazing

- Fudgie the whale is their last meal :(

- titties ahem I didn’t really pay any attention to the shower scene last time. That’s a terrible shower head in my opinion, I don’t like the way it sprays water- OH WAIT THE WIRM IS IN HIS SPINE????? He’s also got a bullet wound in his back. He’s also got a lot of nice freckles on his back. Oh the way Becca sits on the edge and offers her hand and he reaches to take it but grasps the edge of the bathtub instead

- Hughie’s mom seems so fucking casual in the scene where they’re deciding whether to pull his dad’s feeding tubes. She’s too relaxed and almost smiling? At least with her eyes. A lot.

- OH YEAH Gen V mentioned!

- ANNIE I LOVE YOU!!! Look at her face after she burned the president!

- Seriously though such a good Annie moment. She’s so confident with this and marches into the presidents’ office with a plan but by the end of this it’s all backfired and taken away from her. It shows just how fucking much Firecracker ends up affecting her

- I’m not going to be nit picky and go on about how Colin should’ve noticed Frenchie’s ankle because obviously he’d be checking and Frenchie wouldn’t’ve known to hide it before. But I am going to say that’s a Count Olaf ass ankle shot.

- Oh I love how it seems like almost a sweet moment between Sage and Firecracker when she says “we gotta look out for each other” but now you know Sage fully intends for Firecracker to get beat up by Starlight

- I was trying to figure out why Sage got the Deep to do her lobotomy. It’s not that Sage trusts the Deep or even likes him but I think it really is just kind of transactional for her. Like she knows what he wants and what will keep him happy, he’s the only one she’s really made a connection with other than Homelander and Firecracker, and he is not likely to want anything else from her or blab about it. Somehow he is logically the best one to do it?

- It’s great how much Annie really really doesn’t want Butcher there. And neither does Frenchie. Or M. M. Damn, my babygirl has pissed off a lot of people

- Homelander’s theme is so so good. The lone violin does something to my brain. It highlights his isolation and intimidation and fear so nicely.

- I do not know how some people didn’t know Frenchie was queer? I thought it was actually very obvious that in cannon he is bi/pan and polyamorous. Maybe that was just me…

- Just realized how this episode we have both Hughie and Homelander forgiving people. Dots connected! 😃👍 (I’m not dissecting this right now, what do you think I’m an English major?)

- I love all the Hughie and A-Train moments. There’s so much history between them and it’s so present in those moments so it’s interesting to see them have to let it go to help each other because I think they both realize that they’re both fucked up people who are trying to be good and they ultimately relate to each other in a way I don’t think either of them realizes

- Kimiko telling Hughie to let his dad die, to not use the V, is so so strangely powerful coming from her. She understands what it’s like to have V forced upon you, and to be saved by it time and time again. And although she’s now choosing it, she sees how Hughie’s dad probably won’t end up like her and will find it to be a curse

- Hughie tripping is such a loser move (lovingly) like I thought he got shot in the leg or smt but no he just trips. Like the little fail boy he is.

- I love Kimiko showing Hughie how to fight someone and protect himself and then later helping him walk away (it’s a little funny just because Jack Quaid is really fucking tall). She also gives him the motivation of ‘it’s not just about your survival, it’s about your dads as well’ she wants him getting through this and I cannot handle when the boys show care to each other especially when it’s Hughie and Kimiko

- Homelander’s need to be loved is really really really well set up in previous seasons. It’s the only thing that could control him and he doesn’t know it’s even happening for most of his life because he doesn’t know how to ask for it. The environment he grew up in wouldn’t teach him that and the environment he’s put in pushes away and punishes emotion and care. He started off wanting a family from work because it’s similar enough to the lab but no one there has hurt him yet or appears afraid of him. But as he realizes he can’t gain their care, that he can’t make a family, he leans on the fact he can take most of what he wants. But not love. Not true care.

I think eventually he begins to think there’s something wrong with him, but rather than facing that idea (the idea that he’s unlovable) he pushes harder on the idea he is perfect. He is better. Furthering his decent and pushing everyone even further away.

- Butcher and M.M’s ‘time to fill the audience in’ lines caused me to look up what an enema is. And then left the rest to my imagination. First, fuck you! Second that’s a very good device to use because sometimes not showing and leaving it to the audiences imaginations is the most horrifying (it’s their own private horror show)

- I’m looking at the scene where A-Train and Ashley catch each other and I have a feeling it’s going to play out as either Ashley betrays A-Train to win Homelander’s favour, A-Train betrays Ashley, or they betray each other. I’m fairly certain Sage knows A-Train is switching sides so I wonder if she’ll have a plan for when he gets caught.

I also have a feeling that by the end of this season A-Train is either going to die in some horrible way (maybe by Hughie, maybe Homelander, maybe Butcher even) or he’s going to betray the Boys.

If A-Train does die (pls please do not kill him please) I’m wondering how they’ll do it because his death in the comics wouldn’t make sense here and I feel like SuperSonic’s death was already an homage to that

- I wonder if Ashley’s floater will have any consequences. Like they took the time to set it up. Will Homelander comment on it later?

- The way he says “you called me squirt silly” is so so aughhh. This is probably another moment that Homelander remembers that seems so inconsequential to Marty. He was watched and humiliated all of his childhood and then he gets this one thing to himself and when someone discovers it they laugh, adding so much more humiliation. Anyway I’m um skipping the rest of this scene until Barbara shows up.

- Can we take a second to appreciate how fucking well Nancy Lenehan plays the character of Barbara. There is still so much fear to her character but there is no bullshit, there’s a lot of control in a situation where so little is available. She’s cold while still giving a kind of stern mothering vibe. She explains the situation, all the gory details as facts. Starting with “put him out of his misery” to “they were scared”, you could have left, and you were killing from the moment you were born. She knows begging will get her nowhere but she’s still very very afraid.

- Babygirl moment I will never get over. He fought for his life, he kicked and shoved and he won. How this man is alive is a mystery to me but I’m so glad :)

- Tala finally got to say what she wanted to Kimiko but the look on her face as Kimiko leaves is so.. unsatisfied. It’s not over between them, and maybe it hurts that Tala now sees her being kind and caring because that’s not what she got when she first met Kimiko. Maybe she still wants to get that ice cream. Probably not. Just theorizing about her character. Lemme know what you think

- The worm looks like it’s struggling. Maybe Butcher’s life is connected to its life?

- This episode is kind of like one gory scene to the next. You get Hughie and Kimiko killing, then Annie beating the shit out of Firecracker, then Butcher blowing up Ezekiel, and then you’re back to Homelander’s whole fucking slaughter, then it’s Colin beating up Frenchie, THEN it’s a LOBOTOMY, then it’s a nice little hug awwwe

- Barbara’s monologue. I can’t even touch on that. It’s too much for my brain but I’ve been seeing a lot of good posts about it.

- My heart is full after the Hughie and Annie scene. It is so full of love. Fuck OFF Dakota Bob.

- Hughie and A-Train sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-

- “You fucking dog wanker” actually Butcher its dog welder and I wouldn’t compare anyone, let alone Hughie, to him

- Hughie getting told by Butcher not to cure his dad is also really fucking sad. Karl Urban don’t kill Simon Pegg! Instead join the USS Enterprise-

- Daphne tries to get close to Hughie and he rejects her cause he doesn’t feel comfortable crying in front of his mom. Hughie stop being relatable.

- He’s really cute when he smiles. I get it. But he’s also committed atrocities. You cannot fix him. (Which man am I talking about? You’ll never know…)

Here’s a link to the first one because if you got this far I guess you enjoy me talking about this

I’ll probably continue talking about this so if there’s more you will find a link to the post here

[cementarybf]

The woods brothers.

" A duet never played ."

(A series of my headcanons for both the brothers except its not in order AT ALL)

• I was originally just gonna copy and paste my docs of them for this I'm ngl..

• Between the two jeff is the youngest, being three years apart from the older.

• Jeff's a bastard child within the woods family, as his mother committed infidelity making him a foreign mixed child in his home environment (his mother being Chinese, his biological father being Hispanic)

• Liu had been more than excited to be a big brother, even if his mother was less than excited. He would cuddle up with her, mostly to whisper to her belly about how excited he was to be a big brother and that he loved his little sibling already.

• jeff is actually trans his dead name being (junjíe俊傑 meaning elite,high standing) a name he actually prided himself on, but when they moved to Ohio (WHICH ACTUALLY IS CANON?? WHY IS HE IN OHIO) he wanted to be more..Americanized, mainly due to the bullying he suffered for keeping a foreign name- teachers struggling to pronounce it made him disgusted so he chose a simpler name one that they couldn't make fun of.

• jeff was never deemed as "normal", growing up he struggled to behave like other children- diagnosed at an early age with [ narcissistic personality disorder ] and [ early stage child apathy ] which stemmed from a series of neglect given from his parents along with the strict religious household.

• due to this liu had taken up the role of raising his younger brother without much issue, due to taking up the parental role his own view on his parents had easily soured over time when he had gotten into multiple arguments with them.

• liu and jeff were pratically attatched at the hip mostly due to jeff seemingly mimicking his brothers behavior as to appear more friendly to his peers which in the end worked, as he was quite liked in his schools.

• liu had originally been the only one in the family to play piano but jeff followed suit easily only for a moment before he took up learning violin instead as he found it be more suiting. A perfect duet they had made.

• they originally had lived in shenzen before moving to Ohio due to their father getting a job relocation out there (hence jeffs sudden urge to fit ih)

• jeff never actually told his parents he was transitioning due to his mother's heavy religious belief, he'd rather let her believe he was being a "tomboy" then tell her.

• jeff and liu had done multiple recitals together once jeff finally got to understand how to perfectly play the piano. However they never did get to finish their duet that they written themselves.

• liu was the only person he told, along with the one he had asked to cut his hair. He hasn't cut his hair nor let anyone else cut his hair since that night due to the fact he doesn't know how to and is more afraid he'd mess it up (we gotta go bald moment).

• liu was NOT sent to a jail when he took the blame for jeff but instead a boarding school for troubled youth where he may or may have not discovered he may have been bisexual.

• after dying and being revived by a mortician [SUSAN] who was all too curious about death, he met [BALAAM (SULLY)] who had used his jiangshi state against him and encouraged him to eat the woman so she could have her soul.

• after trading a part of his soul and entering a contract with [BALAAM(SULLY] his memory is EXTREMELY bad, similar to a goldfish he's constantly forgetting things and doesn't actually remember how he died outside of the autopsy report. He doesn't remember jeff but he knows he had a brother and that he needs to find him. Even in death he still needs to take the role of worrying for him.

• jeff cannot stand hearing classical music or anything with piano, due to it reminding him of liu and how guilty he is.

• jeff once tried to play violin again but due to his nerves being so badly damaged and the face he was missing his finger on one hand he couldn't play it perfectly, it caused him to have a melt down and he in rage he smashed it to pieces.

[funkymbtifiction]

ESTP/ISTP

Hello Charity I'd like to ask for your help in clarifying my type, I'm unsure of whether I'm ESTP or ISTP. I've been trying to get insights from xSTPs themselves to see what's applicable to my situation since I reckon getting information from the horse's mouth is better than pure theory, but I've ran into a roadblock: it seems every ISTP on Youtube or who ever blogged about typology is either a 9w8 or 5, so there's a huge emphasis in apathy and social anxiety. I'm an 8w7 so I can't relate to either of those traits, as any reactive type I'm definitely not the blank slate they describe themselves as, I'm way more engaged and "animated" for lack of a better term. Still have constant issues with being impatient, irritable and harsh and have great difficulty expressing softer emotions with words, but not ever empty of feeling. And when it comes to ESTPs they are all either 7w8s (this includes that dude from The Big Hormone podcast, it's hilarious how he has literally described his life story as being all about fear of pain and suffering lol) or mistyped ESFP 8s. So its hard to know whether their level of impulsivity is 7 related.

I definitely don't have that tertiary Fe superpower of smooth talking or charming people, I'm great at reading them and can adapt pretty well to social environments, but when it comes to convincing people I either use logic/evidence or a trade off...

You come across as Se/Ti. For one thing, being "great at reading people" is much more of a tert-Fe skill than an inferior Fe skill -- 8 or not, most ITPs are clueless about people and what they expect from them and get annoyed when they can't figure out what is expected of them in any given situation -- a lot of them will avoid those situations entirely because they feel like they were standing behind a door when the social guidebook was handed out. And having no real plan for your future is also inferior Ni more than tert-Ni. I'd go with ESTP.

You're not the first person to accuse Emeka in my presence of being a mistyped 7w8 -- the other one was an ESTP 7w8 who said they can relate to everything he says from a 7w8 perspective. He's also an sp-dom and not a sx-dom, but that's neither here nor there.

[troutfur]

I bring Lynxkit, a mottled black and red molly with striking blue eyes flecked with amber(I think that’s how your supposed to do this)

Lynxkit's chart:

[Image ID: Under the header “What will Lynxkit’s life be like? (02/19/2023)” 16 rows of tally marks crossed out two by two until there is only 1 or 2 left uncrossed. To the left, a shield chart at the top with the following geomantic figures: Albus as the first mother, Coniunctio as the second mother, Cauda Draconis as the third mother, Amissio as the fourth mother, Fortuna Maior as the first daughter, Coniunctio as the second daughter, Via as the third daughter, Populus as the fourth daughter, Rubeus as the first niece, Rubeus as the second niece, Acquisitio as the third niece, Via as the fourth niece, Populus as the right witness, Amissio as the left witness, Amissio as the judge, and Laetitia as the sentence. Below the shield chart, an astrological house chart with the first twelve geomantic figures above mentioned assigned to houses 1 to 12 in the order mentioned above. /end ID]

Interpretation under the cut:

The judge here is Amissio, loss, usually a bad figure but considering the sentence is Laetitia, joy, it seems it will ultimately work out. Whatever it's lost, Lynxkit will be glad to have lost it. The right witness is Populus, passivity and stillness, representing she isn't a particularly active player in this whole thing, and the left witness is Amissio, giving the idea of passivity in the face of this loss.

The first figure of the house chart, Albus, suggests we've got another candidate for elder in our hands and tells us a bit more of about why their reaction to loss was inaction. In addition to being the figure of wisdom and of the old, Albus is the figure of apathy. Let's inquire into the other houses to see why that is, shall we?

In the second house, Coniunctio, communication and connections. The house of wealth and material posessions is a constant struggle for me but I've taken to associating it with food and prey when doing these randomly generated bios, so this suggests to me a pretty particular character quirk for Lynxkit: being a pretty capable negotiator, able to talk other characters into hunting her favorite types of prey in exchange for her doing the same. I don't know what exactly in her desert environment she could be really good at hunting and what food she likes so much she's willing to trade her catches for something else she might not be able to hunt for herself. But there goes an idea.

In the third house, Cauda Draconis, endings and foregone conclusions. WELP! I don't know exactly what happens between her and her littermates/close platonic relationships but this doesn't bode well for her relationships and particularly in relation too...

In the fourth house, Amissio, loss. We see this repeated from the court and while I could make this the loss the court figures refer to, killing off a parent or mentor figure and her reaction being nothing doesn't mesh for me? Like, this should be a more significant side effect. I'll put this down for an initial loss that dulls the pain of a subsequent loss. (Which may be why Cauda Draconis in the last house popped up, could she be perceived as heartless for that reaction leading to close platonic relations forsaking her...?)

In the fifth house, Fortuna Maior, independent success! Good old friend! I always love having this one in either this or the seventh house because this means an excuse to add in singles. In this case a single mother. Good for her, love me some strong independent women.

In the sixth house, Coniunctio yet again. I'm choosing to interpret this in light of the second house and say that she's a very health conscious type of gal. Cats obviously don't know much of anything about nutrition, but I like to imagine in wanting to keep a varied diet with all her food trading, she is cultivating a balanced diet. Good for her. Good for her.

In the seventh house we have Via, motion and change. This probably contributes to her singleness. She moves on fast from a partner, can't settle down, single parenthood was the best move because ultimately she couldn't stay with a single cat. Bodes for a bit of a messy love life but she doesn't strike me as the type to be too torn up about it.

In the eight house, Populus. Precisely as we knew already, the reaction of stillness towards death is related to a death. And since the narrative of SandClan has already involved many a volatile and aggressive deputy, one of which even died by her own hand, I don't see being too torn up about it. Which of couse, may alienate her from her littermates or a close platonic relationship as seen all the way back in the third house. Another factor we established as part of our narrative already is the aggressive faction of SandClan so, members of that?

In the ninth house have Rubeus, anger and uncontrolled aggression. This doesn't seem to refer to herself, really, and it is the house of long journeys. It could be considered an obstacle within a journey, though with how generally chill Lynx is shaping up to be I don't know exactly what. Unless perhaps it is just in general the journey of life in case which, Rubeus was also the significator that gave me the idea of making an aggressive faction a strong presence in SandClan...

In the tenth house, Rubeus again. This reinforces my thoughts about Lynx being in a position where people dislike how callous, even joyful, she seems to be towards a death. If figures of authority are mad at her, that is pretty notable.

In the eleventh house we have Acquisitio, gain. And yet! She is not standing alone! She will gain allies that will back up her inaction. She doesn't seem to be in bad company at all.

And in the twelfth house we have Via, change. If change is an antangonistic force this jives very well with her characterization so far as someoe steadfast, who stands her ground in the face of opposition. This will, of couse, also lead to an entrenched attitude into her old age, pointing us futher to the idea of the elder character.

Putting it all together:

Lynxkit will face loss for the first time early in her life, when a parent or mentor leaves the world for StarClan's hunting grounds. Coming to accept death early, she will take on a largely passive attitude towards life, taking what she can get. Though she is conscious of her health and delights in simple pleasures such as tasting the varieities of prey of the desert, she isn't too torn up about her time coming. Always on the move, she is unable to settle with a partner, but is successful raising kittens on her own. She is very much unfavorable to the growing aggressive faction of SandClan and as a result during one battle she lets the deputy, a figurehead of that group, die by her inaction. Her littermates, themselves sympathizers, feeling extremly betrayed, denounce her and cut her off. She remains steadfast on nothing being her fault though, and though facing anger from many, she also finds support in her stance. Ever steadfast, she carries this attitude into the elders' den, now too fragile too really fight the turn towards aggression in SandClan but still being stubborn in voicing her displeasure.

Warrior name I'm thinking Lynxpelt.

[sublimeobservationarcade]

Dumb Americans & Trump

If you talk to most Australians about America and Trump the general consensus is that America’s love affair with Donald Trump puts them in the ‘too stupid to believe’ category. Dumb Americans and Trump. Are they really believing the non-stop lies coming out of Trump’s mouth? This has most of us rolling our eyes in disbelief. Dysfunctional relationships are often like this – you know when a close friend falls for a complete arsehole and cannot see him or her for what they truly are. It happens and the destructive consequences of such hook ups may go on for some time. In this instance, with a fantasy creation like Trump ascending to the highest office in the world, the impact is felt far and wide.

America Lost In Reality TV

Donald Trump is a fictional character, a reality TV concoction, the bluster and the schtick are fabricated for the mass media. Americans engage way more with what they see on screens than with anything remotely real. We all do these days to varying degrees, as most of us are removed from the realities of public office. We live in big cities and are part of populations boasting millions of members. The great majority of us don’t know stuff about many of the crucial roles within our communities. We only vicariously engage with police and paramedics through TV shows in the main. A lot of us have no real idea about what it is like to be a soldier, a social worker, a government administrator, and such like. We are all cut off from the worlds outside of our own vocations to a large degree. This makes it easy for us to be manipulated by those wishing to paint pictures of certain realms we know nothing concrete about. Enraging America MAGA Style The media wants your eyeballs on their screen offerings. ‘Click bait’ is the term used to describe sensationalist headings and images designed to grab your attention. Social media is all about winding us up via stuff that gets us riled and our blood up. Algorithms keep feeding us with the provocative content to enrage and despair at. Middle ground is anathema to these platforms. Crime is a favourite of the media and has been for the longest time, indeed, way before the internet was invented. Shocking superficial statements and images are the porn of the news stations. Youth crimes committed upon the elderly are gold for the networks on this score. Law and order has been the meat and potatoes of the conservative aligned media for eons. It plays really well with ‘so called’ ordinary working people, as it shocks them out of their apathy. Injustice is easy to present when not all the facts are presented. The media is the Greek chorus of our times, endlessly amplifying stories via repetition. The upshot is that viewers tend to perceive a crime wave rather than isolated episodes. We live in populations in the millions; therefore some statistical balance is required but the media is not interested in such wet blankets. Everything is a crisis and an emergency in this digital world. If you talk to many older folk they are concerned about the likelihood of being attacked at home or on the streets. Many express vehemently the need to punish perpetrators more forcibly on this basis. Conservative commentators on radio and TV selectively choose stories designed to enrage their audience – it is all part of the business model. You may have noticed the reduction in investigative reporting and its replacement by opinion editorials - op eds. Gossip and outrage is much cheaper to publish and produce – it also gets more engagement within a quicker time frame. However, the truth suffers in this trade off promoted by publishers and network owners like Rupert Murdoch. Fake news is much easier to promulgate and falsely claim in this op ed media environment. The media creation known as Donald Trump thrives in such a world. A Crooked Man Walking A Crooked Mile Americans, it seems, would rather a crooked President than a feeble one – if the polls are to be believed. I find it fascinating that President Joe Biden, an octogenarian, is the champion of democracy up against the openly appalling Donald Trump. Short term memory loss is affecting many Americans, as well as the candidates, apparently. I mean who can forget the rambling President Trump during the pandemic promoting the consumption of bleach and actively undermining his own public health officials. Nearly a million Americans died from Covid-19 in supposedly the richest nation on earth during Trump’s presidency. Australians looked on in horror at what was happening over there in the United States (disunity was as apparent as the virus). Mask wearing became a political thing rather than a public health strategy. When stupid people are in charge and leading an anti-science campaign you can see how once great civilisations can fall. Trump just flat out lies about everything non-stop and many Americans are happy to drink the kool aid on his say so. If 40% of the American population are in the Trump cult then we can say goodbye to what we once knew as the shining light of democracy. They called it the American experiment, democracy on this scale, and the scales of justice have tipped over into a state of lawlessness via the capture of SCOTUS by radical right wing agencies. A con man and convicted felon has been given carte blanch by a bunch of bent and bought justices. Trump, like a mob boss, pre-arranged the judges prior to committing his crimes via appointments and favours. The rule of law no longer applies to American presidents, according to this latest SCOTUS ruling. Billionaires have funded the lifestyle of Clarence Thomas to the tune of $4 million. Justice Alito flies flags supporting the big lie about the stolen election in 2020 – I mean in Australia it would be impossible to imagine a High Court judge openly flying a national flag upside down in an act of dissent – he or she would be immediately removed from office. These are the signs of a collapsing civilisation, when the highest court in the land is in active defiance of the people and the elected government. The January 6th insurrection has still not been dealt with nearly 4 years later, in terms of prosecuting the actual leadership of it. Likewise the voter fraud and election interfering crimes committed by Donald Trump remain like a weeping sore on the body of America.   “President Biden managed to gain ground on former President Donald Trump in key battleground states and trails by only two per cent — even after his disastrous debate performance last week, a new poll shows.” (news corp) - (https://pro-assets.morningconsult.com/wp-uploads/2024/07/Bloomberg-Election-Tracking-Wave-9-Toplines-Crosstabs.pdf) Will America awaken from its bad dream or will it collapse under the weight of extreme divisiveness? Will the third of voters who do not really engage in the process have some sort of epiphany? In a dog eat dog consumeristic society can these Survivor contestants recognise the value of democracy? Apathy hangs over the United States like a veil hiding the very real danger that dictatorship represents. Dumb Americans and Trump is this a match made in heaven? Robert Sudha Hamilton is the author of America Matters: Pre-apocalyptic Posts & Essays in the Shadow of Trump. ©MidasWord Read the full article

[branded-perceptions]

Monetary exchange is a fantasy that we tend to chase compulsively for the sake of it itself, thereby naturally over time across groups' unregulated upon symbols projected motivational IDs being reinforced to loose touch with innovating and caring for actual objective reality we all live in: 🎵SITTING IN THE MORNING SUN.

This does not just systematically as covert colonialism passive aggressively "positively" exploit the causal wellbeing of foreign populations that depend upon such inevitably needed but evolvable mimetic systems (🎵I'LL BE SITTING WHEN THE EVENING COMES)

but via the same psychic systems dynamic it also grows the wealth and opportunity and quality of life gap in countries like USA due to the vainness of communications vain err media that as focal lense like an unsound amateur version of covert fascism entrain of by that defined spectrum of available products, market demands, incentives of policy makings' and workforce aspirations' social imagination

in ways that under promoted guise of negative liberty systematically empowers the few who are responsible for and profit from it

while it CAUSALLY exploits the many who are often without informed consent coerced to p(r)ay to its' bra(i)nde(a)d perceptions that ensure that people products that are causally in objective reality systematically at their disadvantage or even harming them while via the thereby regarding causal care saved psychic energies of workforce and production effort costs allow larger profit margins that via negative liberty then are converted into elitarian bubbles who have the informed consent, knowledge and freedom that the exploited people do not have.

Similar like in the past common wealths world trade

🎶(SITTIN'' ON) THE DOCK OF THE BAY - OTIS REDDING

all forms of value-exchange, explanatory mind constructs or status symbols (🎵WATCH THE SHIPS ROLL IN)

naturally loose psychic energies as more they via "attention Gary Vee" loose touch with incentivising causal care of the people supposed to engage with it (🎵BEN I WATCH EM ROLL AWAY AGAIN),

which essentially is why so much of the workforce feels purposeless, fake and dull in their current office jobs ... their biology unconsciously senses (🎵I AM SITTING ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY)

that they and their environment do not know what they live and someday die for via the incentive streams they chase

(🎵WATCHING A TIDE ROLL AWAY)

which they are not conscious of due (often due inherited genetic conditioning) rarely taking their time to be bored or boring to connect with their emotional body and reality testing (🎵SITTING ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY, WASTING TIME)

whose judgement we now after 2000 years of psychotic mass entrainment of "age of pisces" we need to collectively become more aware of

how it detaches from our average causal life needs (🎵I LEFT MY HOME IN GEORGIA)

via our collective social status stories

(🎵HEADED FOR THE FRISCO BEN)

that are supposed to carry the MEANING of direction of our collective by that incentivised actions

(🎵CAUSE I'VE HAD NOTHING TO LIVE FOR)

which currently is causally so meaningless so one does not feel motivated to pursue and chase or work for it

(🎵AND LOOK LIKE NOTHING'S GONNA COME MY WAY)

which many do not notice because this motivational sensing is largely defined by our inherited genetic drives (🎵SITTIN' HERE, RESTING MY BONES)

regarding how emotionally engaging we are with our mind and collective sense-makings (🎵AND THIS LONELINESS WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE)

whose discrepancy with causal care we naturally sense in our unconscious minds' biology

(🎵SO, I'M JUST GON' SIT ON THE DOCK OF THE BAY)

that due to its inherited conditioning of slave-master relationship

(🎵LOOKS LIKE NOTHING'S GONNA CHANGE)

surfaced via the last decades' chronic apathy (🎵EVERYTHING STILL REMAINS THE SAME)

of by these genetic daddy issues driven western civilisation that via out of this growing polarisation of countless "contrary" opinions' subjective relativism (🎵I CAN'T DO WHAT TEN PEOPLE TELL ME TO DO)

culminated in the mishandling of corona pandemic and covid vaccine side-effects

(🎵SO I GUESS I'LL REMAIN THE SAME)

which helps us to collectively strive to evolve past that collective inherited slave-master relationship that the Abrahamic religions ("holy father")

conditioned our by Old world orders' systematically created daddy issues' lack of desire for boredom primed submissive genetics for

[during all the warfare of lats millennia the fathers were away from their children or died so most of the population continuously grew up without calm caring father figures' introspective reality testing which now shows as disadvantage as we collective should strive to evolve past these hyped mass insanities psychogenic illenesses of workforce chasing meaningless hallucinatory stuff like vain err media or "gary vee nft market manipulation": 📚ISBN: 9781716527975]

in ways we now due our new technological possibilities of social organisation need to start to reverse

("become more chill and introspective" to be more motivated to via our mind focus on things that actually matter to causal wellbeing of society via more authentic blunt direct communications' dialectics)

to be a more decentralised vibrant swarm like in by funk of ironic processes driven ancient Egypt:

🎵2000 MILES I ROAM, JUST TO MAKE THIS DOCK MY HOME

[invisiblerambler]

I hate that I constantly have this whole running monologue about my potential being squandered because I grew up in a place that never nurtured my intelligence or academic potential both because my school and my parents didn't have the resources or the vocabulary to handle a student at my level. Which trickled into years of shitty academic experiences and being unchallenged by the work I was doing which snowballed into underachieving in high school. That in turn fed into my narrative of not being better than going to a state school so I applied to the one school that I had decided was acceptable and I knew I could get into. I traded less debt for a lesser pedigree. I was probably good enough to get in somewhere much more prestigious than where I went, but I was so convinced of my own medicority and terrified of debt so I settled. In the end, I don't think it really mattered considering I'm pretty sure my academic history means that I am not designed to thrive in a strict academic environment. It is so infinitely frustrating to feel as if I needed a more designer degree to be taken seriously and to be punished for making a choice that meant I graduated with enough debt to strike fear in my heart because this is America after all, but not so much that I can't conceive of how much money I will end up paying. I was good enough for a better school, academically, but financially the tradeoffs didn't feel worth it. Right now, truly none of it feels worth it and I won't pretend that I feel any warmth or gladness towards the last four years at the current moment. Yet, I still keep coming back to the thought that I could have made the bar lower for myself if I had been in a place that truly saw and nurtured me and pushed me towards what I deserved not just what I could afford. It's no coincidence my fascination with Claire and her educational pedigree. In her, I feel as if I see a version of myself that was given all the time and space to develop my intelligence. It at times felt so in my reach because of where my life started versus where it ended up. Considering what I want to do none of this really matters, but just the confidence in myself and my intelligence and even just less apathy about school from being in a place that pushes someone. I spent much of my bachelor's degree fighting apathy. I saw through some of what I was being taught and I didn't feel engaged by class discussions and shut down by professors who didn't want to engage with me where I was at. I owe a lot of what I learned to a few very good professors who refused to let me just get by because I could. One professor in particular forced me to sit up and pay attention because they were expecting something from me in a way that made me engaged. I owe them so much because of the way they quietly complimented me and my talents and abilities while doing it in a way that didn't shut down my brain in the way compliments often do. I can never fully express all the ways in which their encouragement and advice was instrumental for me. I am very grateful for everything they did for me truly. They are someone I can one day hopefully make proud with what I accomplish. Anyway I'll probably delete this because I have this conversation with myself all the time and never come to any conclusions, but I do think about this and issues surrounding this a lot.

I wrote this in 2020, during a horrible period of my life and three years later I have proved basically everything about this right or wrong depending on how you look at it. Regardless, I made that professor proud, and more importantly I made myself proud.

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

We don’t talk enough about “The Beach” in terms of Azula (long essay) 

Okay so, I have not stopped thinking about this episode and how it reveals Azula’s entire self image and how it foreshadows her breakdown. So here’s a deep dive: 

We start the episode off with this premise: for the first time in the series we get to see Azula as a normal teenager. We’ve seen her in combat, we’ve seen her as a political force to be reckoned with, and we’ve seen her within her messed-up family. But in this episode we’re seeing her on vacation. From the beginning of the episode, we think that it’s going to be Zuko on edge (”doing nothing is a waste of time, we’re being sent away on a forced vacation”) and Azula enjoying her time off (”lighten up, so dad wants to meet with his advisors alone, without anyone else around. Don’t take it so personally”). But that doesn’t exactly happen. While by no means does Zuko have an easy time on their ‘forced vacation,’ the episode reveals Azula’s weakness and hidden insecurities and foreshadows her breakdown in the series finale. 

The first thing to consider is what we already know about Azula: we know she’s dangerous, a protegee at firebending, politically charismatic, and ruthless. We know that people will side with her if she wants them to (Ty Lee chooses her over the circus, Mai chooses her over her family, the Dai Li choose her over Long Feng, and Zuko chooses her over Iroh). From her introduction, we know she’s the preferred sibling under Ozai and that she knows that. She’s confident because of that. She knows that she’s chosen over Zuko because she wasn’t banished or burned. And in season 3, she’s still winning because if the Avatar’s alive, then Zuko will be the one to suffer the consequences. She’s playing the game of Fire Nation politics and she’s winning. 

But in The Beach, all fire nation politics are cast aside from the first minute of the episode. While we think that Azula will be competent and charismatic here as she is everywhere else, that ends up not being the case and it reveals her hidden vulnerabilities. 

Another thing we know about Azula is that she’s competitive. Her whole life she was conditioned to think in these terms as her father schemed his way onto the throne and constantly compared her and Zuko (and when Zuko got banished it signified to her that she had firmly won that competition and she was worthy of her father’s ‘love’). And in previous episodes, this competitive streak has  worked in her favor. Her ‘eyes on the prize’ approach let her conquer Ba Sing Se, defeat Aang, and convince Zuko to side with her. But The Beach offers a new territory: one entirely dependent on her personality. And she still views it as a competition, but this time she’s not the clear winner. 

They arrive at the beach and for the first time in the series, people aren’t praising her as royalty or fearing her as an adversary, instead she’s treated like a normal person. We saw this with Zuko in season 2 when he was masquerading as an anonymous Earth Kingdom refugee in The Cave of Two Lovers or Zuko Alone (where people offered him their home and food when all they knew him for was his actions) and when he was masquerading as Lee/Li (where he was offered a position as a Freedom Fighter, treated as a normal tea shop worker, and went on a date with a girl all on the basis of his personality), but we’ve never seen this with Azula. In this episode, she’s relying entirely on her personality to navigate this teenage social world and she doesn’t get the results she expects. 

From her perspective, her friends and brother are succeeding in this environment way more than she is and that makes her extremely uncomfortable. From her perpsecive, Mai and Zuko are completely fine spending time with each other and Ty Lee is getting the attention of half a dozen guys at once. But Azula doesn’t fit in. She sees this whole ‘Being a Teenager Thing’ as a competition that she’s loosing.Ty Lee and Mai are invited to a party and she’s cast aside. Ty Lee attracts the attention of half a dozen guys and the guy she complimented just ignores her. People at the party leave her alone when in reality, she wanted to come in order to see what it would be like for people to treat them as normal. And in a normal setting, she’s rejected. 

Azula has her comfort zone and that comfort zone is winning. There are four instances in the episode where we see her comfortable and confident that reveal how she depends on her combat and political skills for her self image. The first is when she’s being ignore while her friends acclimate to the beach social scene. She demands that they play in a game of volleyball because one, she needs to be in charge in order to feel in control of the situation and two, she thinks that there’s a clear path from winning the volleyball game to gaining social acceptance. This is a thing she can do. She knows she’s physically capable and thinks if she can do this, then she’s succeeding at the whole ‘Being a Teenager’ thing. And she does succeed. We see the victory make her feel better about herself because she winning (”yes, we have defeated you for all time, you will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation... well that was fun”).

The second time we see her comfortable is after she kisses Chan. From her perspective, part of succeeding at the whole ‘Being a Teenager Thing’ is attracting guys, like Ty Lee, and being in a relationship, like Mai and Zuko. This isn’t necessarily something she actually wants, but it’s something that she perceives as an element of winning. So she plays the part of ‘pretty girl who laughs at unfunny jokes’ and kisses the guy she wants to kiss. This is a win in her books and she has her moment of comfort: 

“Together, you and I will be the strongest couple in Fire Nation history. We will dominate the earth!” 

From the offset, this is just a joke at Azula’s expense like the previous one was, but it says a lot about how she views her self-worth. Her default comfort zone is ambitious, political, militaristic. This is her ‘normal’ and when she thinks she’s finally figured out this whole ‘Being a Teenager Thing’ by kissing this guy, she tries to branch over this false persona she’s constructed to please this guy to her actual self and when that happens, she’s rejected and it hurts her. 

The third moment of comfort is during the campfire scene where Azula sees that, no, unlike what she originally thought, her friends are actually dealing with their own issues and aren’t doing so well. What this means to her is that maybe she is winning. Maybe they’re better at the whole ‘Being a Teenager Thing,’ but they have these other issues: neglect, insecurity, and self-hatred and she tells herself ‘I don’t have those problems, so clearly I’m the one winning here.’ She drags out the issues of her friends because she wants to know that no, they aren’t doing as well as she thought they were. She slow claps and says “well, those were wonderful performances everyone” and we see that she feels better in this small group where she’s the one not screaming and crying about her problems. And this is mean, but it’s undeniably rooted in insecurity. Azula needs to feel like the most competent person in the room. She needs to feel in control because she’s grown up in an environment where being the ‘weak one’ meant getting your face burned off and banished. Azula can’t afford vulnerability. She’s never been able to afford vulnerability, so she surrounds herself by people she can control. And so long as she holds the reigns, so long as she’s perceived as the strong one, it means she’s okay. 

But the thing is she does have those problems. Because after those first two moments of comfort, she gets rejected for who she is. She’s not invited to the party because people think she’s intimidating and weird. Chan leaves after he kisses her because she reveals her true colors. There’s only one other episode where we’ve seen someone actively reject Azula’s personality and there’s a moment of vulnerability where she reveals how that rejection shaped her self-image: 

“I could sit here and complain about how our mom liked Zuko more than me, but I don’t really care. My own mother thought I was a monster. She was right of course, but it still hurt.” 

Azula hasn’t had to think of herself in terms of her personality in years because the last person who valued her as a person, not as royalty or a weapon, was her mother. And her mother saw faults in her. Her mother wondered aloud what was wrong with her. Her mother didn’t like her as much as she liked Zuko and that’s something Azula internalized, even if she was able to mask it up with apathy and cruelty. After Ursa left, she was the unequivocal favorite child. She was the talented one. She wasn’t dishonored or banished like Zuko and she held onto that victory because ‘winning’ the competition of ‘favored sibling’ was the closest thing to love that she got. It didn’t matter who she was as a person, it only mattered that she got results, so she focused all her energy there and came out victorious. Her friends stayed loyal to her out of fear for the most part and she knew it, that’s why she had the circus set Ty Lee’s net on fire and why she guilted Mai into not trading her brother for Bumi. She’s convinced herself that “fear is the only reliable way” because she’s never been shown that people can love her for herself. 

The fourth moment of comfort is when she’s commanding the destruction of Chan’s party. In this moment she said ‘screw these people, I’m superior and I know it. I’m the princess of the Fire Nation, I’m stronger, and they are nothing in comparison to me.” 

This is the mentality she’s been conditioned with for years and by the end of the episode, she defaults to it because it makes her feel strong whereas in reality, she failed at the whole ‘Being a Teenager Thing.’ People didn’t like her. She was rejected for the first time in a long time.

And her greatest fear is this rejection. We see it in the Zuko Alone flashbacks, we see it when Mai and Ty Lee betray her in The Boiling Rock, and we see it when she banishes everyone closest to her in Sozin’s Comet. She anticipates rejection and she acts to snip out the people who can reject her before it happens. 

And the tragedy is, it ends up not being enough. Mai and Ty Lee don’t choose her. Ozai decides to leave her out of the invasion. Zuko takes the throne. There’s no longer her father there to please and no more commands to give. For years she was confident and charismatic because she was in control and in the game of Fire Nation politics, she was winning. For Azula’s entire life, winning that game meant you were worth something and losing it meant that you were thrown away. While she was in control of those around her, while they feared and worshiped her, it meant she was winning. 

But the rejection she faces in The Beach foreshadowed her ultimate downfall because when all her influence and control was stripped away, she was all alone. 

[odysseywritings]

The Right Leader

A woman with dark brown hair and brown skin looked out the window in a white dome of a building overlooking the sunset-glazed green hills. Her name was Mary Rauda-Gold of the Union HQ for Earth. An ambitious, careful public servant, she earned trust from even initial naysayers. Her experience in community, business, and political spheres turned her to a qualified, eager role as the leader of the Earth Front.

She researched former presidents carefully before First Contact and after. Rauda-Gold had no special interest to bribe her, or a family in the public sphere to fear blackmail for. A rare human who achieved a bucket list full of chances early on in life. A ravenous student for history, she came into the presidency asking a question. Can one be a good leader and a good person to so many people? The books detailing the “greats” with their disconnect to the very people who elected them bombarded her with numbing dilemmas on human and alien issues alike.

Early on, she made a promise to avoid mistakes of President Grayson, whose committed attempts to be openly aggressive while privately appeasing aliens set course for turbulent relations between human and alien. This led to the first aliens invading Earth, the jellyfish-like Rizen, to learn important resources for acquiring and populated areas for destruction and enslavement.

For three decades, Earth had been the sole territory of one race. But the vastness of riches made it appealing to more. Thus, the scramble for Earth intensified as more uprooted flora and drained water. Not only the Rizen, but the cycloptic Corax, the cyborg Teknos, the coral-like Brantius, and others plundered Earth with the doctrine being that all aliens mustn't attack each other in the name of peace.

Fearing for the future of the planet, the fragmented states communicated as much as possible. This unity was a temporary yet urgent coalition of democratic leaders, autocrats, religious leaders, and researchers banded together to come up with ways to gain independence. No single leader engineered a clear path for victory, and the struggle for a constant idea made people weary and frustrated. In the midst of voices, the loudest prevailed.  

The urgent Long’s voice resonated with the crowd. Tiptoeing the wire that could lead to falling down the side of warmongering populism or tepid reforms, she raised enough fervor to unify people into tangible goals. Spy networks to spread fabricated war plans of one alien race against another. Technology taken from the slain aliens, initially unobtainable from their aerial superiority, could be learned and used against the original wielders. Within a short duration, covert attempts at fighting the invaders soon gave way to a snowball effect of more procured technology that included spacecraft. It was still lopsided, and the humans’ wit and knowledge of their home took years for momentum to fully hit the aliens’ mother planets.

A string of news carried across the stars as sympathetic aliens protested the wars and demanded Earth remain free. Opinions from the politicians carried the stench of condescension, saying humans could not rule themselves and needed assistance. But time soured that notion, with using mother planets’ money and lives to continue a hated invasion. Not long until then were other aliens combating each other for more dominance over Earth regions.

As extraterrestrial grips loosened and more technology scattered, Long and others could now engage in more significant guerrilla warfare. The snowball caused an avalanche of further embarrassment to the aliens. More were pulling out, focusing on the more dangerous alien adversaries. A galactic war broke out that involved weaponry that saw nuclear missiles being used as often as bullets. The destruction caused an alien race to force humanity to serve on their side. Long refused.

The Old World of space untangled as civilizations older than Earth’s fell in shambles. In the interim, rebellious aliens appeared on the surface to assist humans in recreating their technology. They were pessimistic of humanity, but its resolve in defying total subjugation gave them hope in toppling their imperialistic leaders.

Long succumbed to disease, but her legacy emboldened many despite her ruthlessness toward humans she thought were collaborating with invaders, real or imagined. The next successor in that region, was the soft and meticulous Slavik. Far from charismatic like Long, his calmness and stability sent a plan of continued technological learning and creation that was difficult to argue against aside from the most hawkish people or collaborators. Willing to be more trusting of alien rebels allowed him to gain more info on how they think and act, making it easier to predict further combat incursions.

This acceleration to a new space race was often narrow minded, and Slavik took other matters with apathy and relegated it to staff advisors. Still, he was honest about his goals and was wary of becoming aggressors on earth or in space. He was concerned about protection and elf-reliance, and that boosted their capabilities as aliens continued slaughtering each over for so long that Earth was forgotten about.

As a the tech boom led to force fields, anti-craft weaponry, spacecraft, and peacetime aids such as machines and medicines to repair tissues, the relative security of Earth led to various social concerns rising for people who had time to breathe and think. The foreigners who stayed and aided humans were treated with growing disdain as their efforts were taken for granted in post-war highs. Tensions bubbled as accusations of aliens taking up resources, not working hard enough to earn their stay, or dismantling the societies grew.

Various leaders like President Dickson used these tensions to distract from other matters as he benefited from rising power. Others like the dovish Jacobs made amends and wanted to pursue good relations with the now war-torn alien civilizations, yet his efforts did not go far enough to make lasting benefits due to making sure the remaining alien superpower would not see him as weak or naive.

What followed were a series of leaders who drifted further away from goodwill policies and proper rebuilding of Earth to focus on more weaponry  and acquisition of other worlds for resources, whether or not they were inhabited. Now the conquerors, humans were split between two futures. Security out of supremacy? Freedom out of trust?

At the height of Earth’s dominance, the Union’s people elected Rauda-Gold. She promised to  be firm in national and human interests, standing strong against numerous foes internally and externally. Born in a generation used to surplus, relative galactic safety, and harboring no knowledge of alien oppression, she listened to reasonable qualms without strong bias. Her values were for humanity and earth, with the rest being flexible.

Rauda-Gold steadily relinquished control of planets with native inhabitants to the detriment of the national interests of the already rich. The goodwill took years to fully settle, but it was a start toward a transparent galaxy. A rusting minority segment of the planet Teknos were given medical supplies and aid during a brutal civil war, but she denied arming them to avoid a full fledged involvement. As the Teknos government continued its atrocities, Rauda-Gold cut off trade with a grain that was only mass produced in Earth. With the civil war dwindling resources, the government called for a ceasefire and to discuss with the minority in earnest.

The most perilous occasion was when the Rizen, that old enemy of humanity, invaded planet after planet. Medicine, technology, and weaponry spread to Rizen opposition. Frozen assets and embargoes were mere dents in the war machine oiled by the lie of a former glory. She would not risk human or alien lives unless she herself would fight, yet her age and symbolic importance would make her role limited lest she be captured as a hostage. She communicated as much as possible to troops through camera drones, but it never felt close enough to being there and getting a sense of the trouble. As more atrocities continued, including the gaseous bombs that filled cities afar and at home, people clamored for war each day. She waited and talked to advisors, no matter how much time she spent grieving in private.

She would not create a draft and only allowed a strictly volunteer service to fight. With the utmost protection, the soldiers helped beat back the tide of the Rizen until they were beaten down and succumbed to treaty settling. Still, lives were lost. A fact that would haunt her even if the galaxy was spared further bloodshed. Rauda-Gold did all she could to pay for veterans and their families the same way she did with victims of natural calamities.

Earth’s respect soared, and the withdrawal of colonies led to the planet being self-reliant with a boost in trade from allied planets. The federation of planets were motivated, or goaded for some weaker tyrannical leaders, to endorse a stronger policy of life-form rights. She wanted to be inspiring like Long, prosperous like Slavik, and focused on honest peace like Jacobs. Aware of their shortcomings and their environments, Rauda-Gold knew she would be compared and dissected in the future by historians of all species.

But the issue of war always stabbed at her. At what point does a war become just? The idea of a pacifist president split by an idea of a savior president. The bloodless leader replaced by the hero leader. She planned to resign after her term ended, yet she had more time to make peace with such a choice and image. She contributed to diplomacy more than before, and made sure to rebuild bombed houses with her own hands. Rauda-Gold felt the charred substance of steel and wood and alien materials. All reminders of what a perfect leadership could have avoided. But such desires must be tempered by the environments they dwell in. New generations of alien and human children can breathe and enjoy life in a galaxy more principled against war. Yet she fears her action may inspire future leaders to ignore all that and lionize her war efforts as something to be achieved wholesale without nuance or care. An ongoing fear she must mete out as the twilight of her shining dream dims.

[historicfailure]

Weekly Heads-Up

Coming Up:

the next Naruto Smut Monday-prompt is coming up! The April prompt is “Thunderstorm/Shelter Me” and I believe I have quite a long, interesting chapter here ;D Next week on Monday, I will psot that one ^^

also, after the first chapter of “The Forest Cat Café”, the next will come at the first of May! More introduction of the reader, her job (which will be a focal point later on) her environment, as well as the first look at and into the Forest Cat Café! :D

Working On:

the sixth chapter of The Forest Cat Café! Getting fluffier and fluffier with each chapter ;D

The Hanahaki-fic for Obito ^^ It’s going nicely (9 pages in) and I hope to soon get it out! :D

The Baker!Reader Request ^^ slow and steady progress, but it’s a monster, so I have no idea where this will go. Or for how long it will go on T^T

Just to give you some insight, here is a little snippet of the Baker!Reader Request, just to show I’m actually working on it T^T

~ X ~

There were two other shinobi waiting to be acknowledged. You could feel yourself grow red when you noticed that the adult shinobi—finally, an adult—was smiling beneath the dark mask he wore. At least, his curled eye indicated that he was laughing, as everything else of his body and face was covered, even the other eye. From the tips of his greyish—silver hair to the very toes of his shinobi sandals, the man was oozing boredom and casual apathy, just like naruto oozed bright sunshine and happiness. The last of the group, a young girl with bright bubblegum—pink hair and an easy—going smile on her face, seemed sweet enough to make up for the overall lack of social strength of the group.

Yuma stood again behind the counter of your glass display, one of his rags in hand and trying to wipe away a quite invisible spot on the glass. He acknowledged you with a mere nod and a grunt, before turning away and indicating: They are all yours.

Great. 

“So…” Again, you wiped your hands at your apron. “Well… I never hired a shinobi, so I don’t know what I’m even doing here. Sorry for the confusion.”

“Oh no, don’t worry.” The man spoke up, still with his curled eye and dark mask firmly in place. “This is more of a… trade of favors.” 

Instantly, you grew suspicious. “What favors?”

The shinobi raised his gloved hands. “No worries. Yuma already did me a favor a long time ago. So, basically, this one is on the house.”

“Okay… That’s good to hear, then.” Mentally, you made a note to ask Yuma about said mysterious favor. A last, calming smoothing of your apron, then you nodded to yourself. “Alright. Can I offer you guys anything? Something to drink, eat?”

The shinobi shook his head, but the girl looked like she wanted to cry out at the chance to eat something sweet. Probably was dieting way too much for her age. Though, your hopes and prayers were prominently on Sasuke, who was still as cold as ice. He seemed to struggle a bit, before shaking his head.

“I want something!” Behind you, Naruto barreled forward, arms raised and still smiling like crazy. “The crumb cake! When is it done?”

“It’s not even in the oven.”

“Oh.” He fell silent for a moment, only to light up again. “Can I come back later then? Or even better, can I wait here for the cake?”

“Dobe,” Sasuke rolled his eyes, “that will take a long time. We need to find the flour for her. There’s no time to sit around and eat cake.” 

“There’s always time to eat cake.” Automatically, you corrected Sasuke in a soft, gentle voice. Though, the glare you received from him indicated you just slapped him across the face while screaming your answer at him. You quickly winked at him, taking some of the soft bite away, before turning again to Naruto. “You can come back later. Do you think I can eat the entire cake alone?”

It was a strictly rhetorical question. Though, when Naruto stopped and took you in; really in, in all your curvaceous, rounded, soft glory, you knew what the answer out of his loud, blabbering mouth would be. “Don’t answer that.” Quickly, you flicked his forehead, hitting your nails at the metal of the sigil of his alliance, before turning to the only sensible people here: the young girl and the other adult in the room. “Uhm, well… My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I’m the owner of this bakery.”

“Pleased to meet you.” The man nodded, eye still happily curled. “My name is Kakashi Hatake. Then we have Naruto, Sasuke, and this here is Sakura.”

You smiled at the girl. “Hey there.”

Her shy smile melted your heart a little bit. “Hello. Your bakery looks fantastic.”

“Thank you, I worked really hard for it.”

“My mom loves to buy the raspberry cakes when they’re in season.”

You laughed at that. “Oh yes, these ones are always quickly sold out. Good that you got the chance to taste them.”

“They’re really sweet. Lots of sugar.” Her tone was almost accusatory, and like a premonition, you realized where her talk was going. “Are there any non-sugary things?”

“Honey,” when you stepped up to her, Sakura seemed to flinch back before consciously relating her entire body, “there’s no such thing as a cake without any kind of sweetness. What kind of cake would that be?”

“A healthy one,” she countered, crossing her arms and blinking up to you with the same fearlessness she probably used to intimidate enemies, “a cake with less sugar would be a healthy one.”

“That might be true.” Copying her, you crossed your arms over your chest, though your expression was as light and happy as it could be. “But is it still a cake then, and not really fancy bread?”

In your back, you heard Yuma snort weakly. Your friend would be rolling his eyes at the senseless joke you gave back at the young girl, but at least Naruto started to immediately hum and think about that riddle, all the while Sasuke shook his head in deep despair.

~ X ~

Reminder to myself: even though I’m trying to write a nice happy relationship with Kakashi, giving Sasuke at the same time attention turns my cute little one-shot into a monster of epic proportions. 

But yeah, that’s it for this week! Thank you all for sticking around and also, for the nice reactions/comments/reblogs/likes on the first chapter of The Forest Cat Café ^^9 It’s just so good to see the excitement for a new fic ^^ See you all next week for the Naruto Smut Monday and also, for the second chapter of FCC! Stay safe and sound, you all!

[allyvampirelass29]

Murder at Cripple Creek

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

A boomtown swimming with ghosts Dead eyes can't hide Their hedonist living Drinking, debauchery and sinning Scarlet ladies having babies But a whorehouse is not a home Trading flesh for coin Tempting patrons, at the sacrifice of your boy Little Charlie grew up in the hellish dark The sins of the mother Scarring the son's heart Murder brewing in this simmering fleshpot Oh Hateful Harlot, Mother Manx Is is to your neglect and bitter thanks Your baby boy, molested, and you can't protect Your little dreamer from the wicked world you wrought for him Blood on a beautiful boy's hands But the only thing murdered here Is his innocence. Sending his rapist and that lustful bitch Back to hell Charlie, Charlie you're not a villain You had to save yourself.......

Is...... anyone alive out there? It's been days, and I'm still sobbing, my heart desolated by the roiling emotional turmoil, my ignited rage murderous. I don't know about you guys, but...... I'm an absolute wreck. WHY are you DOING this to me, NOS4A2!?!? After the brilliant turn of last week, the sleek sophistication, and glamourous entrapment, "Cripple Creek," was a backhand strike, a blatant violation that I never saw coming, and I spent the entire episode, quivering, sobbing, pleading desperately behind my hands plastered over my face, watching between my fingers, helpless to stop the punishing abuse My Charlie suffers in two different timelines, his bruises of an abused childhood mingling with the fresh wounds of now, as he is tortured, beaten and berated by Bing Partridge!!!

I hated this episode. I HATED it. There, I said it. But I think you're supposed to, I think that was the sole purpose of this traumatizing ordeal. However, as far as Bing (GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY BASTARD) is concerned, the writer's motivation seems drastically convoluted. If this was supposed to be Bing's Big Epiphany, his "redemption," (Ughhh seriously?) This episode fails miserably in accomplishing that. And if this episode was meant to do, what I had predicted back in Season One, cement him as the actual villain of NOS4A2, making him the more immoral evil, be his rise in notoriety, his coming of age as it were, into the monster he was always going to be, giving Charlie and Vic someone to unite their hatred against, it fails to do that too. The biggest misstep of the series, after so elegant a triumph, I'm going to drown my sorrows in ice cream, and try to forget that any of it ever happened. Close your eyes, and think of Christmasland........

I audibly groaned when we opened onto Bing at the Lake House. After so much needless repetition in an otherwise FLAWLESS episode, I REALLY did not want to relive Bing's point of view of the siege, unless it was him getting shot by white knight Chris McQueen over, and over, and over........ Thankfully, the rewind didn't last too long, but I was having NONE of his, "Are you there, God, it's me, Bing Partridge," moment!!! On his knees in the graveyard, (Why...... why are we in a graveyard?) Bing appeals to the heavens, proclaiming his own innocence, asking God to show him what he should do next. I snickered coldly, the whole thing melodramatic, and absurd, as he cries, "I've been so good!!!" Secretly, I was fantasizing about Buffy SLAYING his creepster ass in the graveyard, beating him bloody, before staking him in the heart with a witty saying like, "It's been a gas, Bing, but I get the last laugh!!!" Alas, alack, no such luck. His appeal to the heavens was answered not in divine intervention, but with bird droppings splattering in his mouth, which of course, translated in Bing-A-Ling Logic to, "Kill the FIRST person that tries to help you, bury him in the freshly dug grave, and take his keys!!!" It's PRAYING Bing, you dolt, not preying!!!

While the side quest FINALLY explains how Bing was able to catch up to Charlie and Wayne, after previously believed to be on foot, not to mention shot, which would have been IMPOSSIBLE, supernatural car not withstanding, it's altogether unnecessary. It was the less than scenic route to get to last week's blood-curdling cliff hanger, and I really think we could have done without all the maudlin hullaballoo, and picked right up from there. Also, it creeped me out BIG TIME hearing Bing Partridge say, "Hidey holes," because that's what I called them last week, when Charlie was adorably telling Wayne about his hiding places. "Look at you with your hidey holes, Babe!!!" Needless to say, Bing has ruined that phrase for me FOREVER!!!

"Charlie, Charlie, telling lies, soon he will be crying cries......" A chilling foreboding that was like ice in my veins........ I was definitely crying cries...... I literally WEPT with this horrid little rhyme, and even still I was so naïve, unprepared, for the gut-churning horror that waited in the shadows of a broken little boy's murdered childhood, and the degradation of the beautiful soul that survived it. It's one of the most grueling, and disturbing things, I've ever watched, and like my Darling Boy, strapped to the chair, enduring forced interrogation by gassing, brutal beatings by Bing's homicidal, ham-fisted punches, and some....... deeply unsettling sexual innuendo, I felt like I was the one getting tortured.........

I did utterly enjoy Charlie's feigned relief, as he uses that silver tongue, in valiant effort, to slip his way out of this sickening predicament. "Bing, My Dear Fellow, thank the stars! I thought you had been done in by those wretched McQueens!!" Charlie gasps, thankfully, knowing full well he'd left Bing behind to die, and for good reason. Any other time, this would have worked, Charlie would have used his coaxing charm, and Bing's oafish gullibility, twisted them into a breathtaking manipulation, weaving the lie that he had no choice but to leave him behind, and Bing would have eaten it out of the palm of his hand, because he wants that badly for it to be true. But Bing watched it happen, his face falling, as Charlie sped off without him, and he's DONE playing. Charlie's pleas fall on deaf ears, as Bing drugs him for answers, revealing the fatalities of every single one of Charlie's former accomplices, and with the finality of one apocalyptic truth....... Bing descends into a frenzied, foaming madness.

"Cripple Creek," is the double edged sword that none of us were meant to survive. Switching between the stabbing scenes of Charlie's withering assault, his lifeline to The Wraith, cruelly severed, and the slicing violation of his childhood self, his innocence massacred before our very eyes, our bleeding hearts never stood a chance. I always knew that Charlie's childhood was going to be horrid, downright Dickensian, devoid of magic and light, unloved by his drunk, whore mother, but I had no idea the HELL this beautiful boy endured at so tender an age, forever scarred, betrayed by the one person he trusted, respected, desperately in need of a father figure, only to be exploited in the most heinous way. It's a MIRACLE My Precious Love can even function as an adult, much less still manage to find wonder and beauty in the world, clinging, clawing to hold onto his ember, his remnant of pure light that persevered in a life of darkness.

The inexplicable joy at seeing a young Charlie Manx, aged 11 or 12, tapdancing on stage, along with the giddy marvel that this young actor looks just like our leading man in miniature, is short-lived, as a stranger takes an uncomfortable interest in him....... I don't know how, maybe it was the intent way he watched him dance, or the way he touched his shoulder a little too long, but I knew........ I KNEW this man was going to sexually abuse Charles, I felt it gnawing in my stomach, instantly unnerved, and I hoped with all my heart, my first instinct was wrong....... I'm devastated to say........ it was not.

Not only does this manipulative pedophile Son of a BITCH molest my baby, he first uses him to persuade other boys to flock to his house, knowing full well how much the young ones look up to Charlie, as their leader. He wins Charlie's favour and trust by befriending him, and giving our little darling the one thing he wants more than anything else. Escape. Escape from the vulgar, gratuitously sexual environment, that no young boy should have to endure, a chance to make money, have an honest, respectable living. A chance to have a father figure, a man to look up to, learn from, and take him under his wing. The shop owner offers all of that, with a crooked smile, the charade falling dangerously away, as he knocks back a shot glass, eying our boy, and then says in the cruelest, most chilling voice. "You've earned yourself some fun........"

Thankfully, NOS4A2 was not overly graphic in this lewd portrayal, but the innuendo was enough to make me ugly cry, and seethe, as this sweet child is violated by someone he admires so much, realizing in horror, that he led all of his friends to be mishandled in this same disgusting manner, like lambs to the slaughter. But our brave little Manx was NOT going to let this sin go unpunished, and I clapped, cheering him on, as he uses his sled, now tainted by its means of acquisition, to kill the shopkeeper, dark fire flashing in his eyes, blood splattering on the shot glass, and I've never been so happy, or nervously relieved to see someone die.

His mother comes to him, and instead of crying, and taking her boy in her arms, stroking his dark curls, soothing his fear, and assuaging his guilt, she just scoffs at his accusation, the picture of apathy, and places the blame back on him. "You knew too, Charlie!!!" You WHORE-ABLE Mother!!! Your son was just sexually ASSAULTED, and YOU DARE make it his own fault, like he'd turned a blind eye, and therefore deserved to get raped!?!? Charlie might not have killed her, if she'd actually had a maternal bone in her body, if she'd done SOMETHING, shown any sign of regret or compassion, but she doesn't, and I feel nothing but proud as he finishes her off too. Her death was surprising, given the admonishing way Charlie talks about his mother, creating the impression that she'd been a bane on his existence his entire life, and yes, as a writer, I wanted to see more of a direct conflict between them to make that defining moment that much more satisfying, but as a viewer, I was just grateful she was dead, and Charlie was free. The only murder perpetrated, the only death I mourned at Cripple Creek, was that of Charlie's innocence, his childhood slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Bing continues to torture Charlie in the present day, my chest shuddering with every thrown punch, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. What was the deafening truth spoken that sends Bing Partridge into a flailing rage, you ask?

"Christmasland is for children. We are special...... That's why we can't go......."

Charlie was never going to take Bing to Christmasland. All that this poor dope had lived for, dreamed of, for eight years, amidst his conning his way into dentists' offices, and offing mothers, and it was always a lie. I had suspected it the entire time, especially after the mention of a, "special feast," but what SHOCKED me the most, was the unimaginable heartbreak of Charlie's own deepest secret coming to light, and as Bing draws it forth, it's like drawing blood. In spite of being the architect of his lifelong dream, and greatest solace from a life full of abject misery, Charlie doesn't think he deserves Christmasland, because he sees himself as ruined........

I broke down sobbing, that pain, that anguish, that he's so long carried with him, ripping through me, and I'm tearing up even as I write this, remembering....... Charlie denying himself his own dream, seeing himself as a ruined article that might profane its pure vision, is a tragedy that I can't come back from. It's a sorrowful, aching confession, and yet somehow it explains so much, and in this, his greatest pain, his darkest secret, I felt intimately closer to him. At last........ we see why Charlie never stays long in his Christmas kingdom, why he's so focused on the next child, and the next, sacrificing time with his own daughter, because they deserve Christmasland, and he doesn't. Always the courier, never the partaker. Christmasland is for children, and Charlie Manx never got the chance to be one.

The searing pains of his past still guide so much of who he is today, placing a strict emphasis on propriety in every aspect of his person, in manner, speech, and dress, because he was robbed of his dignity as a child. I also, FINALLY, after two seasons, understand why he turns the children into vampires, a contradiction to his love of them, that has remained frustratingly elusive to my grasp. Charlie's childhood was taken from him, brought to a vulnerable, violent end, and by turning the Lost Children, theirs becomes eternal. They never have to grow up, and lose that purity, that innocence. I also realized, that by giving them their bite back, they are able to defend themselves, meaning no one can ever hurt them again.......

There was so much awful going on, so much inflicted misery, and disorienting chaos, that I was sure I'd heard wrong when Bing decides on an even more dehumanizing method of torture. Did Bing just...... call Charlie a BITCH!? I shook my head, but there it was again, and at this point I'd HAD it. Somebody give me a GUN, I will WASTE this SICK BASTARD myself!!! The skeevy sexual threat against Charlie felt like overkill to me, utterly ridiculous, a cheap shot at adding dramatic effect, especially in the face of his childhood shame. Bing has exhibited absolutely no inclination of...... swinging that way, as it were, before, and yeah they kind of threw in last minute that he'd done this to Mike's father, offscreen, but I don't know WHY he would do that, especially given his particular affinity for Mike. Charlie, himself, pointed out that there was no indication in the Graveyard of What Might Be that Mike needed saving, or that his father deserved punishing. It's awkward, and disturbing, and there seemed to me no method in this madness.

"If I'm a monster....... who deserves to die....... You deserve so much worse." BAM. Hell yeah, Babe!!! Thank GOD, Charlie's quick enough to convince Bing that he too is a monster, and we are spared any further asinine innuendo. Bing, after these series of unfortunate events, beating, berating, and threatening Charlie with rape, suddenly, deus ex machina-esque has a change of heart, and an epiphany that comes a LOT TOO LATE!!! We're both monsters, we BOTH deserve to die....... What we're doing is WRONG. Was I happy when Bing urged Wayne to go, and tell a police officer that his mom is Vic McQueen? Yes. Do I believe he did it out of the goodness of his heart, and has finally seen the light? Freaking HELL NO!!! Bing, after losing Christmasland, has nothing left to live for, and this is his way of giving up. If I can't go to Christmasland, Wayne can't go...... and he decides a bizarre murder/suicide in The Wraith is his final act of redemption.

Before they even showed the car crusher, I was already sobbing profusely, losing my freaking mind, because I had figured out exactly where Bing had taken Charlie.

"There's going to be two less monsters in the world........"

Meaning to crush them both, and kill the Wraith irrevocably, Bing puts on his mask, and presses the button. At first Wayne laughs, and thinks it's a game, his inner vampire child coming out, but when it hits him that Charlie's in actual danger, he realizes he has a choice to make....... Save Charlie Manx, or let him die, and go home safe to his Mom and Lou.

"No, My Boy, this isn't a game, it's time to play, Save Father Christmas!!!"

Charlie calls out frantically, coaxingly to his young charge, and I loved that so much, my heart overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, Wayne, PRETTY PLEASE save Father Christmas!!! A lot of people despised him for what happened next, screaming at Wayne for his choice, even calling him a stupid kid, but I, myself, felt even more love in my heart for that already dearly cherished little lad, as he smiles, and slams down on the button, halting the crusher, and saving Charlie from imminent death.

It's a profound moment, the abductee choosing to save his kidnapper's life, and many cried out strongly against it, but you have to understand....... Charlie Manx has become so much more to Wayne than the scary face in his mother's paintings. Here is a man that has shown genuine interest in his life, his hopes, his dreams, who has treated him gently, fussed over him, concerned, and who has come to love him like a father. Couple that with The Wraith's effects on Wayne, slowly tying the two of them together, it makes perfect sense to me, how this unexpected bond has formed. Yes, had Vic been there, herself, he would have chosen her over Charlie in a second, but when faced with the reality of letting Charlie die, our tender-hearted Bats just couldn't do it.

"Do think of me at Christmastime, won't you?"

CHARLIE. LIKE. A. BOSS!!!! The single greatest moment, and brightest scene in an hour of plunging darkness, is definitely Charlie, snapping back into his delectably dark, unrivaled perfection (although, I must say I still found him incredibly dashing in his distinguished grays) charging Bing Partridge, murder striking in his wild, smouldering eyes, stabbing him, with a reveling whisper, twisting the knife, with this most PERFECT line, that gave me wonderous, reverberating chills!!! I also LOVED how Charlie glowers in his lumpy face and says, "You were never special." DAMN that's HOT!!! My only grievance with an otherwise ENTHRALLING moment, was that inexplicably, yet again, CHARLIE DIDN'T KILL BING!!! Charlie has KILLED for so much less, and while he did offer a vague explanation about prison being so much worse for Bing than hell, it felt like hell frozen over that Charlie would ever let Bing live. I know this is the writers wanting to keep Bing around to creep another day, but MY GOD, hang that Partridge from a pear tree, and HAVE DONE already!!!!!

This was an especially dark episode, but there were flashes of some really beautiful, albeit fleeting moments, first with Wayne and Craig, and then with Millie and Cassie, though the reoccurring theme, the common thread, did seem to be Innocence Lost. I was startled with the The Wraith's sneaky trick of causing a child to forget their parents the longer they are in the car, and BLESS YOU, Craig for helping your son remember his mother, and fight the transformation!!! He tells Wayne that Vic's favourite movie was Jaws, and Wayne tells him that her favourite holiday is the 4th of July. (Which is really cool, because it's my favourite too!!!) This slows the Wraith's effects on Wayne, and becomes a very special moment between father and son, as they fight to keep Vic's memory alive.

"How do you know my mom?"

"She was my best friend."

More overwhelmed sobs, because apparently I haven't cried enough this episode!!! Craig decides not to tell Wayne that he's his father, but our little Bats is ingeniously clever, and I think he's going to figure it out before long!!! Another mini heart attack comes with a second lost tooth. The suspense of Wayne's slow turning, mirroring the tender emotion in this scene was fantastic.

Millie and her mother have a similar moment, and I thought that was BRILLIANT of her to introduce Vampire Millie to her former human self. The two play with dolls, and human Millie talks about how she can't wait to go on a date, and have adventures when she grows up! It's such an endearing scene, and also incredibly sad, as the pale, gaunt shell of Vampire Millie envies her bright, and bubbly human counterpart, seeing the hope and innocence that she's so long been bereft of. "She's me...... Who I'm supposed to be." Cassie explains that her father's sad fantasy is depriving Millie of the gift of growing up, and explains that there's nothing Charlie Manx fears more than a woman with her own mind, and that's the LAST thing he wants his beloved daughter to become. A woman that would eventually leave him. More tears. Poor Millie. Poor Charlie!! Can I just give everybody a hug!?

"Cripple Creek," lingers like BAD Dream, and all I want to do right now, is curl up with Charlie Manx, hold him in my arms, stroke his cheek, soothe him with the tenderest hands, and softest words, tell him he's beautiful, and that he deserves Christmasland, and the world, that he's not ruined, but PURE!!! This was my least favourite episode in the entire series, and just like, "The Gas Mask Man," will be skipped indefinitely in the re-watch, but like I said, it endeared Charlie even more to my heart, and I feel fiercely protective over him, over that goodness that still glows in his dark eyes, despite lifetimes of feeling unloved, and in ever-present pain. All I ever wanted in Season One, was a glimpse into the past that crafted my mysterious and refined vampire chauffeur, and this entire experience, My Darlings, is an exercise in, "Be Careful What You Wish For..........."

[scripttorture]

Sorry, you're probably tired of hearing this, but I wanted a bit more clarification on why torture makes people more resistant. On one hand, I do understand why they wouldn't want to help someone who hurt them. However, on the other hand, is the fear of pain not an effective motivator to obey (tho i understand how this can lead to lies and false memories)? I thought people would try to avoid being hurt, or does the mentality change when people have a cause to lean on through torture?

I understand that it’s difficult to wrap your head around. Most of us haven’t and won’t experience anything like that mindset and it’s difficult to wrap your head around something you haven’t gone through. It’s also not one, simple factor but a lot of inter-related things coming together.

 There might also be some confusion about what I mean by ‘resistance’ here.

 Generally it’s a word that conjures up images of fighting and spitting in people’s faces. And when I say ‘resisting’ that is part of what I mean but it’s not the whole picture.

 It isn’t really clear from the question whether we’re talking about interrogation or something like slavery. These are different situations and while I talk about resistance in both resistance tends to mean different things in both.

 I think it would be helpful starting out here to clarify what torture can and can not do.

 Torture can’t work as an interrogation technique.

 There are just too many factors coming together which make this completely impossible.

 Yes, it leads to lies and false memories. It also often causes memory loss, so it can destroy the evidence that torturers claim to be after.

 But those are far from the only factors that are a problem. People are terrible at telling when they’re being lied to. This includes torturers and professional interrogators. That means that torturers often believe the lies they hear and this creates a cycle of misinformation with lies feeding into each other.

 I talk about that in this post, which should hopefully build up a picture of how damaging this is to investigations.

 This combines with the fact that people don’t voluntarily report information to suspected torturers and the result is that most of the people torturers arrest and ‘question’ don’t actually know anything.

 So- the people who do know something are unlikely to speak. The torturers can’t tell when they’re being lied to. Most of the people they’re talking to will be lying because they don’t know anything.

 And this isn’t even all the factors. Survivors often report that torturers stopped asking them questions, didn’t record the answers or didn’t let them answer. And torturers often end up fighting each other. And they end up making their working environment so bad for everyone else that it can lead to the whole organisation fracturing-

 It just can’t work. Not without rewiring our brains and completely changing how we process pain and how our memories work.

 I talk a little about resistance in an interrogation context here.

 I think it’s important that we show resistance in torturous interrogation because they’re often framed as if resistance is impossible. But- it’s not the only factor that makes torture fail. It’s one of many.

 On the other hand torture can force people to work.

 Before I get to that we should probably talk about pain.

 I honestly have no idea how much of a motivator the fear of pain is. But pain itself is not a good motivator and make no mistake when we are talking about torture we are talking about pain rather than the fear of it.

 Our pain thresholds (plural) change with time. When we’re exposed to different kinds of pain our pain thresholds can rise, regardless of whether the exposure was consensual or not.

 Take a look at the common symptoms of torture here. It’s a pretty long list of mental illnesses. None of these illnesses make people more obedient. Several of them make people less able to take in instructions.

 Given the choice between torture and work many people will choose to work. Some will still refuse, even if it means being killed.

 But I think it’s a mistake to treat this as obedience.

 Wrapped up in that word is the suggestion of lasting control and the suggestion of agreement. That’s not what survivors of these situations describe.

 What they describe is choosing the option that seemed most likely to keep them alive and waiting for the best possible opportunity to escape or enact revenge.

 They will often use wording that emphasises they were forced to work. They were, they’re at serious risk of harm.

 But they are also behaving in a very tactical way. I think when we treat this sort of short term compliance as true obedience then we- ignore what survivors actually do and say in these situations.

 They know what their odds are. They are smart. They choose the risks they take.

 Forced labour seems to generally be most ‘successful’ when the tasks are simple. The more complicated the tasks become the more likely sabotage becomes.

 I would suggest that this is because complexity creates more low-risk opportunities for sabotage.

 Historically enslaved populations resisted in a lot of ways.

 There was violence. It ranged in scale from the poisoning of individual slave owners or overseers to outright war.

 There was also a lot of smaller scale action that was less well recorded.

 Equipment was sabotaged. ‘Accidents’ happened. Slaves deliberately broke their ‘masters’ prized possessions.

 People escaped in all sorts of ways. In Brazil they set up independent cities in the Amazon separate from colonial society.

 They also committed suicide in large numbers. This might not sound like an act of resistance but in the trans Atlantic slave trade it seems to have been consistently framed as one. Victims said that dying was both an escape and a blow against their tormentors.

 People continued to practice banned religions, speak illegal languages. They laid curses.

 They helped each other. People who couldn’t escape covered for those who could.

 None of this looks like obedience or agreement to me. It looks like desperate, downtrodden people fighting back in any way they can. Not always effectively, not always in ways that are flashy or even noticeable. But carrying on nonetheless.

 This doesn’t mean that everyone is engaged in active resistance all the time. It doesn’t mean survivors are stuck in anger.

 Depression is a common symptom and starvation (which is a common torture) causes apathy and emotional blunting.

 Survivors do say that sometimes they just wanted to give up. And some people never take the risk, it always seems too much however much they want it.

 I think there’s a tendency, looking at this from outside, to see things in a very black and white way. As if we can only resist with huge violent, obvious action or ‘give in’ and obey forever.

 The truth is muddier.

 We are remarkably resilient adaptable creatures. We adapt to atrocities in order to survive them but that doesn’t mean we stop looking for ways out.

 There aren’t many statistics or useful studies on compliance in forced labour or torture scenarios.

 What I find interesting from the anecdotal accounts is how much effort slavers put into portraying obedience as an enslaved person’s best option. That isn’t purely with threats or pain. It’s by framing the scenario in a way that makes it look like the slave loses less by complying.

 This usually comes with an assurance that it’s not forever. It’s for a year or a few years. And the promise is often that after that there will be rewards. Which never materialise.

 Another thing torture is capable of doing is forcing confessions.

 Analysis of historical data from France estimated the success rate at about 10%.

 The London Cage also tried to force confessions from prisoners and also used torture. But they added in bribery and blackmail as well. Their ‘success’ rate for forced confessions was more like 30%.

 I believe the evidence we have suggests that the success rate would have been much higher without torture. Because like most animals we respond more positively to bribery then threats.

 I hope I’ve answered your question but it is a complex one and I’m not sure I’ve done it justice.

 If you want to know more I strongly recommend picking up a copy of Rejali’s Torture and Democracy. It goes through the evidence in much more detail (about 800 pages and references) then I can here.

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[sepublic]

Xian Characters, Features, and Landmarks (Pt. 2)

Karzahni- Karzahni is a delusional, questionably-sane despot in the Voymari District. A crimelord, he has –in addition to traditional thugs- amassed an army of orphans to do his bidding. He sends them out every day and night, scouring the streets of Voymari for small scrapes of riches and anything else of value that they report to him; Orphans who bring back better things get higher status, more food, comfortable rooms, and so forth.

           Of course, many other crimelords mock Karzahni for resorting to children, but nevertheless he is terrifying in his own right. Karzahni himself also has a penchant for ‘rebuilding’ people, taking them apart, modifying them, and grating mechanical limbs and masks and so forth. Many of his victims include people who have angered him, or just the general unfortunate homeless Xian; Regardless, Karzahni has modified many, turning them into horrific, shambling abominations with unusual proportions, too frail to be alive while also partially-mechanical.

           The sick tyrant enjoys this- He likes to build and craft, even if his materials are the bodies of people. Alas, he is somewhat frustrated by his inability to truly ‘fix’ someone, because to Karzahni he is doing a service, or at least trying to, by ‘repairing’ Xians he and others deem faulty. He tends to take his frustrations out not only on his twisted creations, but his own underlings and orphans as well. If in a particularly bad mood, he’ll tear apart a creation down to their most base parts, and/or feed them to his Manutri Penguins, which he has conditioned to be only carnivorous.

           The terror does not stop there, either- Karzahni possesses an uncanny ability to inflict powerful illusions on others, showing them ‘alternate timelines’, or so he claims, of things that could’ve happened to them; If something in their past, or another’s, turned out differently. Many times he has used this ability to torment and traumatize others, but Karzahni has also used this power to comfort himself with alternate timelines of victory, grandeur, and success of himself.

Because he dives so frequently into the subject of alternate timelines and what could have been, he is often dissatisfied and bitter over his lot- Not only that, but he occasionally has issues remembering what is or isn’t real, and will have to be reminded that what happened in one vision didn’t happen in real life. Sometimes he’ll randomly start talking to someone else that isn’t there, as if interacting with an alternate timeline; It is disconcerting to watch. Additionally, Karzahni uses his power to create simulations and predictions of events as he attempts to figure out the most optimal decision or strategy for himself. The exact accuracy of these predictions are questionable and seem to be somewhat rooted in the data he is aware of.

Karzahni wears unusual, green-and-violet armor. He has a mask that is a patchwork of various other elements, and he wields chains in combat that can lash around foes and rise to burning temperatures, searing through opponents. He has an unusual amount of strength and durability for Xian- Apparently, he has modified himself in the past as well. Even if one were to break through Karzahni’s powerful, demoralizing illusions, the tyrant himself is still a dangerous enemy to fight.

Whenua and Tehutti- These two roommates have a thankless, low-paying job as minimum-wage librarians and occasional tutors. Despite their poor wages and lack of appreciation for their work, these two have a vested passion for history and are eager to share their knowledge with others. With no prompting or personal gain beyond the satisfaction and triumph of it all, these two have pooled their lifetime’s earnings and savings towards expanding their simultaneous home/book store to include a ‘Xian Museum of History’, for any and all who are interested! No cost is required to enter and enjoy their exhibits, but unfortunately no one seems to be interested either…

Rorze- The warden of The Archives, Rorze is an Archives Vahki with the latest, most advanced AI programming in order to achieve maximum efficiency. Although all other Archives Vahki are specially designed to prevent any level of free will whatsoever, Rorze was ultimately granted the ability of sapient thought in order to enhance his leadership abilities and control over the Archives’ security. He constantly supervises every single step of each procedure, while inspecting all possible inches of his facility. Rorze has dedicated his entire existence to maintaining the Archives and protecting whatever is within- It was all he was made for, after all.

           Throughout the years, Rorze has subjected himself to new patches to ensure that his programming is completely immune to computer viruses, hacking, and other forms of tampering. After each update is installed, past memories and data are transferred to the new ‘brain’. Whether or not each version of Rorze is truly the same person is up for debate, but Rorze himself does not care. As far as he’s concerned, he has no allegiances or loyalty to anyone, and acts as a neutral party whose sole concern is preserving objects and even living creatures within the Archives. Because of his robotic, single-minded dedication towards his task, Rorze will do anything to accomplish his goals, so long as he is permitted; He is still technically beholden to The Powers That Be and those that he serves.

Idris- A grumpy, surly overseer, Idris was placed in charge of a field of Airweed and its workers after the past overseer and his hired guns mysteriously died, obviously killed by The Beast. Hired specifically for her apathy on the subject, Idris doesn’t particularly care that other workers are at risk of being devoured by The Beast each day they work; Xia’s harsh climate for workers has taught her to be similarly callous. Still, when three masked strangers appear, offering to help find and kill The Beast –and for free no less!- she can’t help but take the offer. Even if their help is on the condition that Idris herself attend the mission…

Fero- Amongst the Bone Hunter clans, one is led by the persistent, vindictive Fero. Fero is the leader of his clan for obvious reasons- He is a skilled, cold fighter who knows when to cut his losses, when to retreat, and when to strike suddenly from the cover of the sands, or the darkness of night. Like any successful Bone Hunter, Fero is a patient individual, and he has led countless raids on villages, caravans, and so forth. His clan has amassed a wide variety of goods and weaponry to sell, alongside prisoners to keep or sell off as slaves.

           Fero knows that he is human, just like anyone else, but he manages to get around this by being an incredibly stealthy and skilled hunter. He is an intelligent strategist, knowing exactly how to track footprints in the sand, find resources, or take advantage of the environment to swiftly ambush enemies. He has led various guerilla attacks on past opponents and emerged in victory in the process, and is experienced in the realm of survival in any circumstance. Fero himself wields a hand-held rail gun, and rides atop his personal Rock Steed Skirmix, with rider and steed having known each other their entire lives. Skirmix is fiercely loyal to Fero, and would die for him- And should he die, Skirmix intends to go down alongside him. Skirmix is intelligent and understands Fero’s harsh orders well.

Berix- Travelling across the arid sands of the Baran Desert are Water Merchants, who will sell precious stores of water or replenish them to thirsty travelers. Among them is Berix, a heavily-cloaked, hooded figure who keeps himself cool with mechanisms and air-conditioning units underneath his pack. Despite Berix’s rough, coarse demeanor and voice, he is still trustworthy; He is a man of his word and will not try to scam or take advantage of his customers.

Berix is also a scavenger and collector, and with his supply of water is able to make extended trips out into the desert, hoping to dig up neat artifacts to keep. One can barter for water by trading him a unique item of some sort. Berix owns quite the collection of knick-knacks, some gathered from corpses, or found in the sand, or sold to him; Others bought directly from the market. There is some suspicion towards him having killed or robbed for his collection, but he maintains that he is totally innocent.

Berix wields a sword for self-defense, one that has an edge etched with carvings in the shape of sharp waves. It is a keepsake from the past, one of the first things he found in the desert, and an item he treasures and cherishes. In addition, he also has a shield that doubles as a wide, double-edged sword.

Perditus- Perditus is a frequent champion of Zakaz’s brutal races, riding his own Thornatus V9 into victory. Amongst its modifications are an Exsidian front, an improved engine, a rail-gun, and a few Force Blasters. Outside of his races, Perditus will frequently ride across Zakaz’s deserts, and will offer rides; For a price, of course. The longer the trip, the higher the pay. For someone of his title, he is of course a skilled and quick-thinking driver, able to outmaneuver bandits and Bone Hunters on the fly.

           Perditus himself is a mysterious figure, often wearing a racing helmet that obscures his face. There is even a bit of a rumor going about that he is a serial killer, but nobody can know for sure. Outside of his Thornatus, Perditus keeps a rapier on himself for personal defense.

Sahmad- Riding across Zakaz atop his chariot, pulled by a Spikit steed is Sahmad; A ruthless, nihilistic bandit, smuggler, and poacher. Armed with a powerful whip, as well as a rail gun merged with a blade, Sahmad has made a living not only robbing helpless travelers, but also hunting and selling even endangered species- Attached to the back of his chariot is a wheeled cage that he keeps animals in. Poached animals are kept in line with brutal whip-cracks as Sahmad gathers them, before eventually selling them off. On the side, he helps carry cargo of questionable legality across the Baran Desert.

           Supposedly, Sahmad was once a member of the decimated Iron Tribe- Apparently, members of the Iron Tribe one day found themselves unable to dream when asleep. This predicament began to spread amongst others, with those afflicted soon going mad as they could not sleep; Rest had no effect on their addled minds, which became unable to recover and sort through the events of each day. Victims of the ‘Dreaming Plague’ eventually could not fall asleep, and died of exhaustion.

           Naturally, neighbors of the Iron Tribe reacted in fear, and worked to shun the group. It eventually got so bad that the Vahki, normally scarce in Zakaz, were called in to quarantine and contain the entire tribe. Sahmad escaped the quarantine, traumatized after seeing his loved ones die, and became an outcast- Others in Zakaz feared he had the Dreaming Plague and would spread it to them. As a result of his trauma, Sahmad has become an embittered, nihilistic individual who sometimes wonders if his cruel crimes are his attempts to lash out at the world that had forsaken him and his people so?

Telluris- A mad, brilliant inventor, Telluris was also another survivor of the Iron Tribe after the Dreaming Plague wiped it out; Although he and Sahmad didn’t really know each other back then, nor do they interact much in general. Still, a general kinship between the two is still there, as they both share the same trauma and have also been shunned by Xia for their association with the Dreaming Plague. Once, Telluris partnered up with Sahmad, believing that if they colored their armor a dark-blue, people wouldn’t recognize them…

           It didn’t work out, and his armor has remained a rusted-orange since. Yet despite his eccentricities, Telluris is nevertheless a brilliant engineer. On his own, he scavenged parts for and created the Skopio-XV1, a massive four-legged mech with treads built into its limbs. The Skopio has a ‘stinger tail’ equipped with powerful cannons and other weaponry, such as a targeting rail gun and Force Blasters. Telluris himself rides on the back of his Skopio, and has grafted mechanical bits into the back of his head that let himself plug cables leading into his Skopio, enabling a more accurate and precise control over it.

           Perhaps to get back at the world that hurt him –or just because- he rampages frequently around Zakaz, attacking villages, settlements, bandits; Anyone that comes across his path. His Skopio-XV1 is unmatched in firepower, and can even fold up to assume a faster vehicle mode as well. Telluris is paranoid, believing everyone has it out for him, and aims to take over all of Zakaz with his personal weapon. Thankfully, his own madness inhibits his effectiveness- If Telluris were fully sane, he likely would’ve taken over Zakaz by now. One has to wonder if he didn’t totally avoid the Dreaming Plague…

           Between the occasional rampage, Telluris will suddenly calm down and become peaceful in order to visit markets to buy parts and tools from. He has a hidden garage where he performs maintence on Skopio, which he seems to treat as a living creature and beloved pet of his, often talking to it. Damage against Skopio is a personal affront to Telluris, who believes that people are hurting his precious creature, and he will retaliate tenfold for such an action. Between his sudden mood swings and genuine brilliance, Telluris is a dangerous, volatile character that is hard to predict.

Tuma- Once a slave, this towering titan of a Xian has risen to fame and glory as an esteemed Glatorian. Operating in the Baran desert, Tuma is intimately aware of his place and status in society, and knows that the villages of Zakaz see gladiators like him as nothing more than a tool to use; And he is familiar with indignity and dehumanization of slavery as well. Initially a slave-fighter, Tuma earned his freedom after winning countless battles with his unusually potent strength and huge frame.

           Now an independent master of himself, Tuma has become dissatisfied with his lot in society, and still feels like a puppet. To remedy this, he has begun to make recent alliances, hoping to establish a ‘Glatorian Monopoly’ of sorts; Him and other like-minded Glatorian have begun to make deals with one another, purposely losing fights, or choosing jobs, according to the needs of one another. Members of this ‘ring’ of individuals will make alliances, giving out recommendations to one another, and helping to recruit new fighters and training them.

           With his lieutenants Stronius and Branar, Tuma hopes to control the gladiator system that many villages in the Baran desert rely on. Ideally, his network of gladiators will collaborate and coordinate with one another, scheming to lose or win matches with each other, reject offers and services unless at a proper price, strike for better conditions, etc. With Tuma at the top of this Glatorian Monopoly, Tuma hopes to rule the Baran desert by proxy of having control over its gladiator matches, which decide the majority of its political decisions and conflicts. With his wealth as a champion, Tuma has also set up betting offices, and employed his fellow Glatorian, whom he essentially commands, into collecting on debts, as well as accepting matches that he deems beneficial, and in general swaying the events of the arena as he pleases.

           A Glatorian strike and unionization is much-welcomed, and needed. Many gladiators have benefitted from what Tuma has brought about, and the concerns that some villages have on Tuma are not exactly out of the goodness of their hearts, or for the safety of society. Still, Tuma must not let the power and greed get to his head… It seems that gladiators who refuse to join his alliance tend to get bullied into submission, or find themselves out of a job as other members of the network will take job openings and positions from them. Tuma must beware becoming the tyrant that his masters were, and continue providing power to his fellow gladiators instead of oppressing them as well.

           Born with unusual genetics, Tuma towers over most and wears black-and-green armor while wielding a massive sword, shield, and additional blades on his back in combat. Even though he is older than most gladiators, he retains his peak strength, height, and stamina, and stories of this ‘titan’ have spread across Zakaz. Some have interest over the secrets of Tuma’s body…

As a result, groups in the past have attempted to kidnap Tuma for their own gains. Tuma has resisted such efforts naturally, and is used to Exo-Toa Baterra being sent in to spy on him and his actions. Tuma is not open about his Glatorian network, and the Baterra have been sent to keep an eye on him. Unsurprisingly, this kind of surveillance has made Tuma somewhat paranoid, but rightfully so, and he remains sharp-minded as ever to avoid any mistakes.

Metus- A silver-tongued businessman and merchant, Metus has since become a recruiter in the Baran desert. He works to spot out potential fighters and introduce them to the gladiator system, as well as recommend combatants amongst villages, settle disputes, and so forth. Metus has a good eye and nose for potential, able to scout out a potential Glatorian amongst a group, and grant them the funding, investment, and support they need to reach success.

           Metus himself was once a trader in the northern-kingdom of Iconox, only to lose everything within the crossfire of a war he wanted no part in. He does whatever it takes to survive, and will gladly sell out anyone else. He is untrustworthy, and while his recommendations are often good, he has also been caught giving villages poor fighters or else granting dishonest advice. On the side, he makes sure to place his bets well and carefully, and has amassed some wealth as a result.

Metus hopes to get in on Tuma’s planned network of Glatorian and gather a share of the riches, yet is also reporting intel and data to Baterra spies as well. Tuma doesn’t trust him of course, but Metus is insistent on getting a hand on the stocks and treasure; He aims to one day become rich enough to truly leave Zakaz behind, perhaps starting his own business in Stelt…

Surel- An aged veteran from the same conflict that robbed Metus of his livelihood, Surel was left wounded and dying on a blood-stained battlefield. But amidst the White Quartz Mountains, she found salvation in a pack of Iron Wolves that tended to her need, helping protect Surel and bringing her food as she recovered.

           Now, Surel is a leader of this Iron Wolf pack, and leads them on hunts in the White Quartz Mountains, off the fringes of the kingdom of Iconox. She is mostly crippled from age and old wounds, and walks with a limp and walking stick; But armed with a dagger, she can be lethally fast, taking down and gutting an enemy in seconds. She knows how to conserve and utilize her strength well, and with her pack of Iron Wolves by her side, Surel is a lethal opponent and not one to cross. She has no interest in Zakaz’s politics- She has long ago rejected the battlefield she almost died in, and now intends only to live a life of hunts alongside her trusted Iron Wolves.

The Sisters- A cult of powerful telepaths and mind-readers, this all-female (trans-inclusive!) coven of ‘witches’ lives in a desolate forest, somewhere along the borders of Zakaz. They worship a deity named Annona, and their exact intentions and plots are unknown. They prefer to live to themselves, occasionally venturing out in their forest for supplies, and have used their mental abilities in the past to place others beneath their thrall- Such unfortunate victims are not only robbed and used as proxies to gather more materials, but are occasionally even harvested for their body parts.

           The Sisters perform many unusual, arcane rituals. It is unknown to outsiders what they have planned, but evidently they seek to one day find Annona, whom they attribute the cause of their powers to. Attempts to infiltrate the group and learn their secrets have failed; They can sense intent and faultiness, and even Exo-Toa Baterra have been caught by them. Rumor has it that they can even perform magic, and the gladiator Tuma has an unknown connection to them that he’d rather not talk about. Things are apparently uncomfortable between him and The Sisters…

The Kraahl- In the darkness of night, people have spotted them- Darkened, cloaked figures who can be sighted briefly, only to suddenly blip out of existence as if they were never there to begin with. The Kraahl, as they are known, have been known to access areas under heavy fortification, somehow teleporting across massive distances with no one able to catch them. The Kraahl are cryptids in Zakaz, and known to occasionally appear to gather resources for themselves. Attempts to plant cameras and trackers on the things they steal have failed, with signals abruptly ending entirely once the Kraahl disappear. Where are these mysterious people going? Where do they come from? How do they have their power? Attempts to understand and decipher their strange, teleporting abilities have failed.

[alvaar-aldaviir]

Movement: Melancolico Part 1/3

Time Frame: Heavensward. Spoilers accordingly.

Notes: Trigger Warnings for a more personal and introspective look at grief and depression, as well as accompanying thoughts of suicide.

This is by far the darkest piece posted thus far, but it’s important to Alvaar’s character and I don’t like to gloss over the impact it left on him and his subsequent relationships with others. Scions especially.

Cross-posted to Ao3.

 -

Alvaar has never been the sort to give himself time for pause. There was too much to do as the Warrior of Light, too many wrongs to try and right as the world shifts under his feet after the Vault. But having ripped yet another tyrant from his throne and finally taking time to grieve...

Why is it the hardest battle he's had to face is the frozen state of his own blackened heart?

An introspection on grief and depression, and the importance of the people who stay by your side. Second chapter incoming.

 -

It was over. Thordan was dead, Haurchefant’s killer had been slain with him, and in the quickly growing pile of problems already stacking before the remaining Scions Alvaar only cared about one. He’d dragged another tyrant low and put more Primals back into aetheric dust, the world could hold a moment for him to attend the funeral of the man he’d loved when he’d put his own grief aside to see justice done. And somehow, for all the near brushes with his grief he’d had chasing after Thordan, when he’d finally given himself leave to let it wash over him...

Alvaar still hadn’t managed a single tear.

-

It spared the Count a scene at least, having only held the hand of his beloved when he paid his respects. A hand that felt alien and cold, stiff and somehow like it was hollow, empty of the vibrant and warm soul that had once been bursting within. A man that could ask him to smile on his dying breaths...

He’d dipped his chin, murmured his words of goodbye, and walked away feeling as though whatever warmth that had lingered in him now lay in that casket to keep Haurchefant company. He wouldn’t need it. Surely he’d never feel anything so warm again without him.

Tataru and, somehow surprising to him, Alphinaud, had lingered by his side. The Lalafell’s hands wrapped tight about his and he barely felt it at all. He’d only sat still and silent through the funeral before he found himself being guided away once the candles had started to burn out. Led through the streets like some dumb beast of burden by the small hands holding his and the slim arm at his back.

He didn’t know what words they’d said nor what they’d done, only that he’d fallen face first into a bed that didn’t carry a trace of the young lords cologne and somehow the absence of it felt both fitting and obscenely painful.

-

The next day passed like a haze as he stayed still and silent in the darkened room and remained relatively mute to anyone that came calling. His solitude was only broken when Alphinaud finally shoved the door in after the third unanswered knock to let Tataru nervously follow along behind him. Once he’d sulkily sat up to stare at them both he was immediately greeted to a bowl of stew being held towards him as the Lalafell chattered about it being her latest learned recipe at the Forgotten Knight. And with the Arcanist already clearing off the side table and dragging over chairs for himself and Tataru, he’d had little choice but to entertain them, listening quietly as Tataru brought up what bits of inane gossip she could, pointedly staying far away from the issues at hand.

-

The next day Tataru returned, this time carrying a cutely adorned basket along with his breakfast. He’d no sooner finished (more from the pressure of her stare than hunger) when she was pulling out her embroidery hoop and asking him to teach her a new pattern. After an overly long silence which she stayed determinedly, if not earnestly, expectant at his eventually reply, he acquiesced. With a small flourish of light his own needlework set appeared in his hands and he’d studied the blank fabric for a while mulling it over. He knew invariably she would want to embellish her clothes with something unique for her newfound workplace and pondered what designs might work as he wordlessly accepted the fabric pen she held over to him.

Opting against designs of the straight spires of the buildings around them (for they only reminded him of bloodied lances rising from a corpse) he settled for a heavy lined sketch that left the Lalafell confused until his thread and needle began to fly, stitching white over the swirl of icy blue ink lines. Her eyes immediately lit up with excitement, hopping up beside him to watch as the frost patterns were quickly embellished in with delicate stitches and raised knots.

“I spoke with an elderly woman at the guild here. Apparently, there’s a technique called thread painting that’s become rather popular with the ladies of estate. If you were to very carefully bleach out some of the color for your base lines, you can embellish them with silver floss like so. Think of it like fern reeds at first but add more swirls to the frond ends and a few straight fractals with your thread. Like frost on the windowpane,” he murmured, holding his fabric away so Tataru could watch him work.

“Oh! Alvaar that’s genius! I have just the perfect blue piece that could use sprucing up!” she chirped.

“If you can, try on a part you can’t see first. You’ll want to see how much the bleach spreads through the fibers,” he continued, reciting the pointers he’d been given.

They’d spent almost two hours with their needlework, the Bard patiently advising and even handing off his teaching piece and a few spools of cotton silver floss for her to use. As soon as she left in her usual scurry for work, he’d waited for the door to close before fitting another piece of fabric into the hoop, securing his needle, and banishing them back into nothingness.

Without the chatter or direction, he’d returned promptly into a defeated sulk for several hours, interrupted only by Alphinaud letting himself in after his knocks were ignored.

Alvaar didn’t bother to sit up, not fully certain why the young Elezen was there when Tataru wouldn’t be out from her shift for another four hours at least. Not unless he was here to be dragged along as both physical and mental muscle for another round of Leveilleur politics.

And if that was the case the boy was about to be terribly disappointed by his newfound depths of apathy.

What else would it be? A rousing speech to rise up from despair and fight for a better Eorzea? A plea or summons from yet another far off city needing their help yet again? Another return to conflict against the shade of Nidhogg that had claimed Esti-

“Drink.”

The flat no nonsense tone made him flick an ear as weary puzzlement pulled at his brow. Sliding his gaze over to the Arcanist he stared at him mutely and the thermos he held out to him.

“You have to keep your fluids up or you’ll get dehydrated and sick, now drink,” Alphinaud commanded again, though Alvaar could hear the faint nervous tone underneath. The sound of someone trying to be brave in the face of something unfamiliar he figured, as the boy had scarcely ever seen the Warrior of Light in any state that wasn’t still rock steady. Even in the face of Bahamut he’d kept his emotions under control and been responsive despite internal fear. And even after losing himself to rage fighting against Ilberd, he had quickly come back around and behaved normally once he’d been snapped out of it…

It was perhaps the most telling of how his mood must appear, given the youth had marched headstrong into each major city without so much as a pause of step to speak with political giants.

A faint snort left him, but he sat up anyway to continue pinning the Arcanist with that stare for a few moments more before holding his hand out. Accepting the container he removed the cap, staring at the pale liquid inside as a strong whiff of mulling spice reached him.

“.... Mulled tea? ... the scent is right, but the color is off. Did they substitute tea leaves?” he mused, taking another light whiff before tasting it.

“They didn’t have any Thanalan tea leaves, likely because the secular attitude hasn’t left much in the way of trade routes with Ul’dah. Hopefully that will change in the near future when... well. We finish what we’ve started.” Noting Alvaar’s flat stare, Alphinaud fidgeted, looking away promptly and finally moving to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at his shoes. “.... I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste right. I... tried my best to brew it the way you showed me,” he murmured.

There was a pointed silence that stretched out between them before the Bard took another drink in thought.

“It’s different. A bit weaker. Coerthan tea leaves don’t have as much flavor due to the harsher growing environment and tending to be dried from the cold instead of the sun. It’s not as oxidized as in Thanalan, despite being the same plant. It takes almost double the amount, but a weak brew is sometimes a better option than a strong one. You can sometimes brew again, but removing bitter flavors is difficult,” Alvaar mused.

“Ah... sorry...”

“Don’t be. It’s not bad, just different but a good enough substitute. In fact, it brings out more of the mulled spices as Coerthan tea has more of an earthy flavor. It’s also not bitter from over steeping. That’s usually the most difficult part,” he whispered, staring at the container. “I’ll have to teach you how to make Ishgardian tea. They use yaks milk here and steep the tea right in the milk. It’s quite a bit different from in the south. There the milk is a primary additive and not used as a base.”

Alphinaud blinked at him, tilting his head some once Alvaar had fallen quiet again. “You know quite a lot about tea.”

It got another snort. “I’d hope so. I had to get a real good eye for it given it sells pretty consistently. Nobles love their herbs and spices. It’s a lovely show of status to have foreign spices in your food or at your table. ...Did you know Y’shtola loves Coerthan tea? I’d usually harvest a bit extra for her.”

“Does she? Hm, I wouldn’t have guessed. ... so, what made you interested in botany? I confess, it was not a topic I went to at the Studium.”

The Bard was quiet for a spell, still studying the pale liquid intently. When Alphinaud didn’t seem to show any sign of leaving or pressing him further, he at last sighed and looked up.

“Money. I arrived to Gridania with little more than what I carried and maybe a thousand Gil. Just enough to stay a day or two and find some work.”

At that the teen stared at him in silence for a few moments, during which the Bard took another slow drink while maintaining eye contact.

“... Y-you’re serious?”

“I needed the money.”

“No that you only had access to a thousand Gil. Did you have a credit line or access to-”

“We don’t all have very accommodating rich parents Leveilleur. In fact, some of us don’t have parents at all,” he cut in flatly before taking another sip as he looked away. “It can’t all be heroic battles and cajoling with the big brass of foreign nations. It hardly puts food on the table much less pays the cost of raw materials to craft into some form of steady income.”

At that the Arcanist seemed a bit chastised, studying the floor again. “Weren’t you paid for your work with the Scions?” he asked softly, still a note of disbelief in his tone.

Holding up a hand the Bard began ticking things off his fingers. “Travel expenses. Lodging. Equipment costs. Repair bills for said equipment. Food and potion expenses... At the end of the day I break even Alphi. And that’s only sustainable if I show up to do great heroic feats every day, which you might forgive me if I find that a little disconcerting to be that needed. Besides, I have retainers and a chocobo to pay for. That’s the bulk of the reason I joined the Twin Adders and that was mostly to open up a way into marketplaces while being mobile.”

Alphinaud was silent for a short while, contemplating the idea of it and hanging his head a bit more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Flicking his gaze over to the snowy haired teen, Alvaar frowned slightly at himself before ruffling his hair and looking away again. “I’m not. At least it’s honest work. Besides, Scion work is sort of, you know... nonprofit. I can’t really demand more pay and I wouldn’t anyway. Keeps me busy. And I genuinely like many of the trades I’ve picked up. It sort of... grounds the adventuring. Reminds you of why you do the insane heroics.”

“Yes... I’ve certainly found that perspective is all important to what we do...” the Arcanist replied, managing at least a vaguely upbeat tone. “Still, I apologize for being ignorant of your situation.”

“Don’t worry about it Alphinaud. It’s not your problem and you’re in a very wide majority of people that don’t ask about my life. Most don’t really care about what happens to their neighbors much less the man under the mask and I don’t make a habit of supplying details anyway. In fact, the only person that really dug into my life was... well. Haurchefant.”

At that the mood grew even more dim, punctuated by a single soft and saddened laugh from the Bard. “He used to trade me folktales and history for stories about myself... I suppose I’ll never find out how the story of the ‘Moonstone Lanner’ ends...”

Setting the now empty thermos on the nightstand with a ringing thud, he rested his head on his drawn-up knees and wrapped his arms about himself, burying his face away from view.

“Damnit Greystone...” he murmured, voice faint and hollow. Even now... STILL... No tears would come to him and-

“Do you know anything about Sharlayan?”

The words were a bit rushed but they made Alvaar pause anyway, lifting an arm up enough to see Alphinaud’s expectant look.

“.... No. Why?”

“Would you like to? I still remember many of the things on its history from my time in the Studium. And even a few myths and legends if you prefer that instead.”

Staring at him flatly for a long beat, he finally sighed when the Elezen seemed content to wait for a reply and even more than ready to stay seated at his bedside. “Fine. Give me a myth. Something fantastical.”

“I can think of a few. Here, eat this. Tataru said she would bring you dinner but that’s still a few hours yet,” he answered, holding over a wrapped-up handkerchief containing some form of braided bread.

A deeper sigh left him but he accepted it anyways, rearranging a number of pillows back behind him before falling into them with a feathery thump as the arcanist began his story.

-

Another day and then a second passed in similar fashion, Tataru asking him about this craft or another in the morning with his breakfast and Alphinaud telling him a story or three with his lunch. In the late evening they both made an appearance with dinner, sharing whatever Tataru had been allowed to take with her (which he noted was a much larger and more complex portion of leftovers than any one Lalafell would need) and chatting or playing cards.

And in the times between he would lie silent and still in the dark as if in some waking dream with only the ever-present sound of the howling winds to accompany his depression.

On the third day, both maid and Arcanist had dutifully reminded him (no less than three times a piece) that Tataru would have a particularly late shift and he should definitely make sure he went to or otherwise acquired dinner. He’d offered mute nods and mentally brushed it off as the vain test it was. He didn’t want food or water.

He just wanted to be left alone.

-

If the winds of The Pillars were colder than anywhere else in Coerthas, Alvaar couldn’t tell as he stared down into the inky black. The almost ever-present snow remained, spiraling away out of even his keen vision as it dwindled out of the lamplight of the city and vanished into the obsidian depths below.

Once he wouldn’t have had much interest in studying so steep of a fall, leaned against the balcony of his loaned room at the Fortemps Manor. Once he would have had much more of an interest in being inside where it was warm, curled up under the arm of his lover. Once he would have shared stories of his travels and listened for hours as the Lord of Camp Dragonhead regaled him with the long history and folktales of Coerthas.

Once, Haurchefant wouldn’t be lying cold in ground that was colder still and would have been there to keep him warm both inside and out with his cheerful demeanor.

Now Alvaar wasn’t certain if he’d ever really feel the cold again with how numb his heart still felt. Like it hadn’t beat since Haurchefant had been run through. His insides colder still then the hellscape of ice and snow about him. Indifferent to the frozen winds that ripped at his loose cotton tunic and leather breeches.

He stared into the inky black, gaping like the maw of some colossal dragon intent to swallow all Ishgard and her people, and he felt nothing.

Three days and still...

He felt no outrage that often sparked in him after those he loved were attacked. He felt no sense of duty driving him to feats of heroic stupidity. No sadness to linger and mourn the loss of a man he’d truly come to love. There was a growing pile of bodies about him to avenge, a city stirring in unrest in the wake of a millennia of lies, Scions to track down, and a war to help end.

Even so he stared at that abyss and he felt nothing but a desire to be consumed in it. To let it swallow him up and put an end to the unyielding march of the Warrior of Light. The heroic figure of myth and legend that made a target of every mere mortal around him... until, inevitably, he would die standing alone. Haurchefant and Ysayle, both dead on this journey, and surely by now Estinien has been consumed in Nidhogg’s rage...

His friends were dying around him as he fought for a country that wasn’t his own. Hadn’t he done enough? Couldn’t he at least grieve for what had been lost?

It was bitter, and it was petty, but in his dark apathy he thought maybe if he let that yawning void consume him then he’d at last feel like he could break down and cry.

Finally shed the tears that had burned in his eyes as he held his dying lover in his arms. The same tears that remained hot and still refused to fall in the ensuing chase. When he’d battled Primals, and Garleans, and lost more friends. Even at Haurchefant’s funeral and afterward, when he’d felt the concerned stares of his few remaining Scions and the House of Fortemps who knew what the man had meant to him.

He’d told him the night before the Vault that he loved him... and now when he finally stole a moment of his own he couldn’t even shed the damn tears with this cursed icy heart in his chest.

It would be so fitting...

Just a step...

Just a short climb...

And he’d vanish into nothingness again…

[allisondraste]

Writing Deliciously Evil Characters: A Meta Post

Recently in a discord conversation, I was discussing some feedback that I have gotten on my longfic, regarding my portrayal of the odious Rendon Howe.  Arl Howe is a classic, stereotypical “mwahaha” type of villain, which is not the standard in Dragon Age where the Wardens are Grey and the villains are Greyer, in that most of the bad folks aren’t doing bad things for the sake of doing bad things (e.g. Loghain, Meredith, Solas), but rather because they believe what they are doing is “right.”  Howe, on the other hand is a man who betrays his closest allies in the first of what would be a series of awful vies for power during the Fifth Blight that would eventually lead to his death and the destruction of his family.  He’s not the only character who does evil for pleasure/power/personal gain (think Livius Erimond, the Grand Duchess, Corypheus, Danarius blah blah blah).  However, the feedback was about Howe, so I’m going to reference him throughout this post.

Essentially, I have received a number of comments in which people have remarked something to the effect of “The way you write Howe makes me hate him even more.” I love this feedback because that was the plan all along and it’s the equivalent of someone saying “The way you write [insert widely beloved popular hero character here] makes me love them even more!”  I love love love villains, and as much as I am in the camp with everybody else wanting to stab the man in his slimy, weasley guts, I also love writing him.  In my personal opinion he is actually a very good villain, and I’ll go into why in a bit.

For those of you who haven’t encountered my meta posts before, I’m not a writer by trade.  I am a mental health professional, and my background is in psychology.  So when I make posts about “writing” some type of thing, I typically focus on the psychological components of why certain things work for characters, why others don’t, and how to make a character’s actions realistic and true to who they are as a person. That being said: I do speak about sensitive things in my posts, and this one is no different, so I will be putting the rest of this post behind a Read More.  If you are triggered by the mention of trauma and abuse, violence, and mental illness then I would caution you to take care of yourself if you choose continue on!

What is Evil?

If I were to ask you to give me the name of someone who is “evil,” I would bet money that the people everyone lists would be what society likes to coin “psychopaths” or “sociopaths,” and these are individuals who are callous, cruel, and lack consciences, anxiety, and empathy.  They are your serial killers and super villains.  Your unarguably bad, awful, evil people. They were always evil.  Born evil. Raised evil.  They eat, sleep, and breathe evil.  Concentrated evil flows through their veins. They probably also hate puppies and babies.  You all get the picture.

First of all, this is not only an inaccurate understanding of what standard human evil is, but it is also an inaccurate and romanticized view of psychopathy/sociopathy (the words are actually interchangeable, people just like to pretend they are different).  The media loves itself a juicy slice of psychopath.  It’s why we have movies about Ted Bundy and why Discovery ID is a thing. However something that is so incredibly important to note is that regardless of how an evil person presents, “evil” as a thing, a behavior.  It is  not a personality trait, but a societally motivated response. People are not evil; they do evil.  Someone  may be born with a diathesis, or predisposition to do evil things, and then be influenced by environmental factors to enact those evil things, but nobody in the world is born evil. Not. A. Single. Person. In fact, as the Stanford Prison Experiment, conducted by Philip Zimbardo (who also has a wonderful TED Talk  on the Psychology of Evil), shows ANYONE under the right circumstances can do evil.  The Stanford Prison Experiment is actually an excellent example of why the Templar Order is the way it is!  When people of equal standing are placed in a position where one group has perceived power and authority over the other, and when the guilt is diffused across a “group” rather than placed on a single person, horrible things can happen. In fact, more evil is done by groups of people than individuals for this very reason.

I originally had a much longer explanation about how society causes evil, but the post ended up being long anyway and this was unnecessary (but, if you want a post about that in the future, feel free to hit up my inbox or otherwise just check out that Zimbardo talk linked here).  

My point is that in order to write compelling villains it is important to understand what drove them to reach the point of atrocity they have reached, why they do as they do.  A villain who you cannot answer those questions for is going to fall flat.  Disclaimer: I am not suggesting that you excuse a villain’s actions or make apologies for what they do.  Evil is evil regardless of intention, however, knowing the explanation for the behavior can help you capture it in a story.

Why Villains Fall Flat

If my readers are anything like me, then there have been times in the consumption of media that they encounter a really awful bad person who you just kind of feel “blah” about.  They are supposed to be your protagonists’ mortal enemy, but their defeat falls flat and feels empty and anticlimactic.  Sometimes in the horror genre, authors take the “telling less” approach regarding their villains because that increases the “oooh” creepy feeling that they want to have.  This is actually really really effective for a horror film.  It is not so effective when writing action/adventure, romance, etcetera.  Why? I think that it can be pretty well summed up by the following quote by existential psychologist Rollo May:

“Hate is not the opposite of love; apathy is.”

Essentially, in order to truly hate a villain and to be both disgusted by their actions and thrilled by their defeat, you have to care about them in some way shape or form.  You have to be invested in their “origin story” and/or care about someone who is closely tied to them or affected by them.  It’s why Rendon Howe is such a good villain, and why playing the Cousland origin and meeting his children makes you hate him even that much more.  When you play the Cousland origin, you get to see the Arl through the eyes of someone who doesn’t know that he is bad.  Rendon is aloof, but ultimately respectful and he seems to have the implicit approval dear old dad (they were war buddies after all! Fought in the rebellion together!!).  Then, he has the family murdered in their sleep in a premeditated act of sheer ambition.  We get to see the death of a young woman and her son, and watch as Warden Cousland leaves her parents behind to die.  It’s tragic, it’s all Howe’s fault, and it’s effective.  Then you have this opportunity to meet Howe’s eldest son Nathaniel who is so bitter and full of rage that *you* the “hero” destroyed his family.  He can’t fathom his father doing something evil enough to warrant what happened to the Howes.  He was never that bad!  He just got caught up in politics!  He picked the wrong side in a war!  He tortured prisoners because the country was at war!.  His bedroom was  next to the torture dungeons because politics and war! I’m not saying that Nate has the most accurate view of his dad -- the man certainly wasn’t winning any father of the year awards, after all, a fact which Nathaniel eventually comes to realize (“maybe I shouldn’t defend the man who found the screams of prisoners to be soothing bedtime ambient noise” -- okay I’m exaggerating so sue me).  What I am saying is that in  listening to Nathaniel speak about his father and his family, we learn more about Howe, his life and his motivations.  We realize there is nothing more than a man behind all that evil, a man who has a family (and a family in which the other members are actually good and decent at that) and we are able to see that maybe he could have been good had things gone differently for him.  Again, it’s effective.

What Causes People to Do Evil?

As I mentioned before, just as with greatness, people are not born evil.  Evil is something that people have thrust upon them, and it is honestly really tragic if you look back and see all of the individual steps that led to a person becoming the villainous bastard you know and love to hate.  There are many different reasons a person might do evil things, but it typically falls into the theory we psychology nerds call the “diathesis-stress model,” which posits that certain people are born with a “diathesis” or a predisposition for a certain type of behavior.  In the case of an evil person it might be that the person has an irritable temperament or ambitious, selfish, narcissistic, aggressive, deviant, manipulative, etcetera tendencies.  When these people are placed under a stressor (such as, but not limited to: abuse, trauma, modeling of crime or deviant behavior, desperation, loss, etc.), the darker sides of those qualities comes out.  

NOTE: This is not to say that everyone who has these qualities and undergoes a stressor is going to become evil.  This is not to say that abuse/trauma/etc. causes evil.  In fact, most people who are traumatized do not go on to traumatize others; however, if you look at everyone who has done evil, almost all of them have done so because they grew up in an environment where such evil was the norm, and they learned nothing better.  They are people who were pushed by desperation.  They are people who ultimately have a story that is not “Oh, they’re just bad.”

Evil is the perfect storm of nature and nurture that, unfortunately, some people are not able to escape.  

Sometimes, it’s easy to care about villains because their intentions and motivations are very overtly stated.  For example:

Loghain is motivated by a very rational fear of the Orlesians and Cailan’s closeness to them.  We learn all that Loghain’s family went through during the Orlesian occupation, what happened to his mother.  We also can toy around with the possibility that his decision to quit the field at Ostagar was less obvious treason and more obviously pragmatic.  This of course doesn’t justify anything he does (you know, like striking a deal with the magisters to sell the Alienage elves into slavery or allowing Howe to, uh, torture people, what have you).

Meredith - See my above discussion of the Stanford Prison Experiment, but also consider her temperament and the trauma she was exposed to as a child with her sister who had magic and caused the death of 70 people including her family.  Is it okay that she abuses her power and abuses mages? Hell no… but we have motivation.

Solas - *sigh* Don’t make me do this one.  We get it. He has to RIGHT the WRONG. It’s his DUTY.  Cool story, still evil. (disclaimer: I love Solas. Ma vhenan. But I look at him with a critical eye when I choose to love him.  That’s important.)

Sometimes the motivations are not so clear.  I’m not particularly inclined to care about Corypheus other than I’d kinda like for him to get away from me with that demon army.  I don’t really give a flying duck about Erimond other than he is, as Cole so succinctly puts: an asshole.  There are lots of characters like that, and honestly it’s good to have a few of them sprinkled about a bit.  They’re not particularly fun to write or compelling to read (in my personal opinion), but hey! Your mileage may vary.

And now we’re back to Howe (Maker help me I never thought I’d be doing a  meta post about this awful man, but here we are).  He, and actually most if not all the minor villains in DAO, is actually really good despite his motivations not being so blatantly obvious as Loghain’s or Ulfric’s or any of the others you face in that game.  When he says, “I deserved more!” at the end, without further thought about the topic, it’s easy to say “God what a power grubbing weasley little snake of a man,” or a “cold codfish arse,” as one of my friends aptly described him.  However when you look at his background… it’s not so simple as all that. Just a few notes:

According to the lore Rendon has two fathers: Padric, who disappeared with the Wardens never to be seen again and who Rendon never forgave, and Tarleton who had no sense for loyalty and sided with the Orlesians in the rebellion and was ultimately hanged.

Young Rendon, despite his parentage chose to join the Rebellion with his besties: Bryce Cousland and Leonas Bryland.  At some point, he becomes injured and is no longer able to fight.  He is cared for by Leonas’ sister Eliane, who would later become Lady Howe.

There seems to be a lot of strife between Howe and his wife’s family, so much so that Eliane’s parents were even cold and critical of the Howe kids, Nathaniel in particular (maybe because he looks the most like Rendon, who knows?).  He expected to receive some of the Bryland wealth, but that did not happen (likely because he did not actually love his wife and Eliane’s family had no great love for him.  As far as marrying a Howe in Thedas, it would be much like marrying a Greyjoy or a Frey or a Bolton in Game of Thrones.  It’s not a family anyone particularly wanted to be associated with)

It is likely that Howe became very insecure and upset by the success of his friends, even resentful of them.  Handsome Bryce, his promotion to Teyrn,  and his Pirate Wife.  Leonas and his lovely [wealthy] family.  It made him miserable, and accompanied with all of the things that had been modeled for him by his family… it was not much of a stretch for him to go darkside.

So…What Was The Point of this Allison? Why Have You Written This Hellishly Long Post?

1.) I wanted to.  It was fun for me. This is how I spend my free time apparently.

2.) I wanted to provide some basic pointers for writing believable, but undoubtedly bad villains, and I felt like it needed context.

The Tips...Get On With Them Already. Please. We’re Begging You.  TL;DR!

1.) “Evil” is not a personality trait, it is a behavior.  People are not born evil.  They are led to do evil.

2.) Romanticized psychopaths/sociopaths are boring.

3.) In order to develop hatred for a character, you have to make the audience care about them, and the ways to do so are endless.

4.) Evil is the combination of a predisposition to do bad things plus some catalyst that causes someone to go darkside.  Nature and Nurture working together to make a twisted thing.

5.) Grey villains are abundant and very cool. Their motivations cloud their morality.

6.) Not-so-grey villains are also abundant, and can also have the potential to be very cool or the potential to be glorified Scooby-Doo villains (“And I would have gotten away with it too if it hadn’t been for you meddling WARDENS”)

7.) The line between a compelling “mwahaha” and a bleh “mwahaha” lies in the character’s backstory and motivations.  It lies in the audience caring in some way, shape, or form about that person.

8.) Rendon Howe is a character who, in my honest opinion was done right.  People loathe him.  He’s absolutely detested. Why? Because he’s a “cold codfish arse”? Maybe.  I posit that it’s because we have enough information to care about him.

Thank you for coming to this TED Talk, you all have been wonderful.